LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

University  of  California, 

QIF-T  OF- 


^ 


4 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/birtheofherculesOOplaeirich 


i 


S)i88ertattone8  Hmedcanae 

A  SERIES   OF   THESES  ACCEPTED  BY  THE  FACULTIES  OF 

AMERICAN  UNIVERSITIES  FOR  THE  DEGREE 

OF  DOCTOR  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


jBmlisb  Xanouage  anD  Xiteraturc*   IFlo.  I 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 


By  MALCOLM  WILLIAM  WALLACE 

PROFESSOR  OV  RHETORIC  AND  ENGLISH  LrrSBATUBX  IN  BELOIT  COLIiEGE 


CHICAGO 
SCOTT,  FORESMAN  AND  COMPANY 

LEIPZIG:  GUSTAV  FOCK  PARIS:  H.  LE  SOUDIER 


M 


Classical  pbdolog^e 

UNDER  THE  EDITORIAL  SUPERVISION  OF 

H.  W.  JOHNSTON,  Ph.D.,  EDWARD  CAPPS,  Ph.D., 

THE  INDIANA  UNIVERSITY  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  OHIOAQO 


No.  1.  Lex  De  Imperio  Yespasiani.  By  Fred  B.  R.  Hellems, 
Doctor  of  Philosophy  of  the  University  of  Chicago ; 
Professor  of  Latin  in  the  University  of  Colorado,     50c. 

No.  3.  Contraction  in  the  Case  Forms  of  the  Latin  -io  and  ~ia 
steins  and  deus,  is,  and  idem.  By  Edgar  Howard 
Sturtevant,  Doctor  of  Philosophy  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Chicago;  Instructor  in  Latin  in  the 
Indiana  University  50c. 

IN  PRESS 

No.  3.  The  Genitive  of  Talue  in  Latin.  By  Gordon  J. 
Laing,  Doctor  of  Philosophy  of  the  Johns  Hopkins 
University ;  Instructor  in  Latin  in  the  University 
of  Chicago 


THE 

BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

WITH   AN   INTRODUCTION   ON 

THE   INFLUENCE   OF  PLAUTUS  ON   THE   DRAMATIC 

LITERATURE   OF   ENGLAND    IN   THE 

SIXTEENTH   CENTURY 


A  DISSERTATION 

SUBMITTED  TO  THE  FACULTY  OF  ARTS.  LITEEATURE, 
AND  SCIENCE  OF 

THE   UNIVERSITY  OF    CHICAGO 

IN  CANDIDACY  FOR  THE  DEGREE  OF  DOCTOR  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

(DEPARTMENT  OF  ENGLISH) 


BY 

MALCOLM  WILLIAM  WALLACE 

PBOFEBSOB  OF  RHETORIC  AND  ENGLISH  LITERATUBB  IN  BBLOIT  COIiliEGS 


CHICAGO 
SCOTT,  FORESMAN  AND  COMPANY 
1903 


;M 


\.V^^ 


COPYRiaHT,    1903,    BY 
SCOTT,    PORESMAN   AND  COMPANY 


TTPOORAFHY  BY 
KABSH,  AITKKN  <fc  CUBTI8  COMPANY,  CHICAGO 


PEEFACE 


The  Bikthe  of  Hercules,  which  is  preserved  in  a  single 
manuscript —  British  Museum  MS.,  Add.  28722  —  is  now  pub- 
lished for  the  first  time.  I  have  attempted  to  follow  the 
manuscript  copy  accurately  except  in  two  particulars:  the 
punctuation  has  been  modernized,  and  contracted  words  have 
been  written  in  full.  Practically  all  cases  of  contracted  words 
occurring  in  the  play  together  with  their  expanded  forms,  are 
included  in  the  following  list : 

y* — the,  thee  contentm* — contentment 

y^ — that  commaundem* — commaundemenb 

w* — what  sefuntes — seruauntes 

yo' — your  educacon — educacion 

hono' — honour  reputac'on — reputacion 

w*"— with  gefiall— generall 

w** — which  ifichantes — merchantes 

m' — master  .fite—  parte 

m"^ — mistres  ^chance — perchance 

should" — shoulders  depture — departure 

ord' — order  ^swade — perswade 

comend— commend  ^happs — perhapps 

corny  tted—  commytted  ^fy  tlie — perfy  the 

The  spelling  has  been  changed  only  to  the-  extent  of  insert- 
ing the  apostrophe  in  the  expression  ''I'  faith". 

The  beginning  of  a  new  folio  of  the  manuscript  has  been 
indicated  by  a  dagger.  Original  stage  directions  are  preserved 
in  parentheses;  others  are  enclosed  in  brackets. 

The  present  publication  of  the  play  is  made  possible  by  the 
courtesy  of  Professor  F.  I.  Carpenter,  of  the  University  of 
Chicago,  who,  while  studying  in  the  British  Museum,  examined 
the  manuscript,  had  a  copy  made,  and  ultimately  gave  it  to  the 
present  writer  to  edit.  Professor  Carpenter  has  extended  his 
courtesy  to  the  reading  of  the  proof  of  the  play,  and  I  am 
further  under  obligation  to  him,  as  well  as  to  Professor  A.  H. 

125?44 


PREFACE 

Tolman,  of  Chicago,  for  valuable  suggestions  in  preparing  the 
Introduction.  But  my  chiefest  debt  of  gratitude  is  due  Pro- 
fessor John  M.  Manly,  of  Chicago.  From  the  very  beginning 
of  my  work  his  advice  and  criticism  have  been  of  inestimable 
value,  and  his  unfailing  kindness  has  ended  only  with  the  read- 
ing of  the  final  proof  sheets.  I  can  not  adequately  express  my 
grateful  appreciation  of  his  interest  in  my  work. 

Malcolm  W.  Wallace 
Beloit,  Wis.,  January  20,  1903. 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS 

Pagb 

Introduction 

Chapter  I. — Sketch  of  the  History  of  Early  Classical 

Study  in  England 7 

Chapter  II.— The  Revival  of  the  Study  of  Plautus     .  11 
Chapter  III. — Early  Dramatic   Pieces  Influenced  by 

Latin  Comedy 28 

Chapter  IV. — The  Development  of  Comedy       ...  36 

-  Chapter  V. — The  Influence  from  Germany  ....  45 

Chapter  VI.— The  Influence  from  Italy 60 

Chapter  VII. — Shakspere's  Predecessors       ....  72 

Chapter  VIII.— The  Last  Decade  of  the  Century  .     .  81 

The  Birthe  of  Hercules 97 

Notes 167 

Index 179 


or  THE 

V/NIVERSITY 

-.         OF 


INTKODUCTION 

CHAPTER   I 

A    SKETCH    OF  THE    EARLY   HISTORY   OF    CLASSICAL   STUDY   IN 

ENGLAND 

The  English  universities  of  the  Middle  Ages  knew  very  little 
about  the  classic  Latin  authors.  Theology,  rhetoric,  philos- 
ophy, and  canon  and  civil  law  were  the  subjects  upon  which 
their  efforts  were  concentrated,  to  the  almost  absolute  exclusion 
of  the  arts.  Latin,  to  be  sure,  was  the  one  language  used  in 
the  universities,  both  in  text-books  and  disputations,  but  it  was 
the  Latin  of  comparatively  late  Christian  writers — a  **barbarou8 
jargon"  which  had  traveled  far  from  the  standard  of  the  time 
of  Tully.  And  yet  the  authors  of  the  flowering  time  of  Roman 
literature  were  not  entirely  forgotten.  As  early  as  1178  and 
1180  we  find  English  transcriptions  of  Terence^ — the  work  of 
Henry  of  Winchester,  and  Benedict,  Abbot  of  Peterborough — 
and  references  to  classic  authors  are  frequent  in  the  writings  of 
the  monks.  Hugh  Pudsey,  Archdeacon  of  Winchester  and 
Bishop  of  Durham,  who  died  in  1195,  bequeathed  among  other 
books  Tullius  de  Amicitia.'^  In  1248  the  library  of  Glaston- 
bury Abbey  was  the  richest  in  England,  and  though  its  total 
wealth  consisted  of  only  four  hundred  volumes^  it  contained 
copies  of  Livy,  Sallust,  Seneca,  Tully  de  Senectute  et  Amicitia, 
Vergil,  Persius,  and  Claudian.  But  the  monks  did  not  study 
the  classical  authors  seriously,  nor  appreciate  their  literary 
excellence,  nor  in  any  way  attempt  to  make  them  models  of 
prose  composition.  ** A  university  education,"  Mr.  H.  E.  D. 
Blakiston  tells  US,  "commenced  at  an  early  age  with  the  acquisi- 
tion of  a  working  knowledge  of  Latin,  the  language  of  theology, 
law,  and  science,  in  the  ScJiools  of  Gra?nmar,  where  the  text- 

»  Not  translations,  however,  as  Reinhardstoettner  supposes  tliem  to  have  been; 
V.  Plautus  und  Terenzund  ihr  Einflusz  anf  die  spateren  Litteraturen,  I,  p.  74. 

a  Wills  and  Inventories  (Surtees  Society,  1835),  p.  4. 

a  Catalogi  Veteres  Librorum  Ecclesiae  Oatkedralis  Dunelmensis  (Surtees  Soci- 
ety, 1838). 


8  TEE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

books  used  were  Terence  and  Priscian."^  "Though  some 
attempts  were  made  to  understand  Greek,  Hebrew,  and  Arabic 
writings,  there  was  during  this  period  nothing  resembling  the 
modern  study  of  literature  known  as  classical  scholarship.  The 
schoolmen  wrote  in  a  barbarous  jargon  of  Latin.  "^ 

About  the  close  of  the  thirteenth  century  the  universities 
arrived  at  a  condition  of  popularity  and  success  which  was  at 
that  time  quite  unprecedented.     Although  the  statement  of 

^Archbishop  Fitz-Ralph  of  Armagh  made  before  the  Consistory 
at  Avignon  in  1357  that  in  his  days  there  had  been  as  many  as 

ywthirty  thousand  students  at  Oxford,  can  not  be  taken  seriously, 
as  Jusserand  takes  it,^  there  is  no  doubt  that  at  that  institution 
alone  there  were  about  three  thousand  in  attendance.  But 
the  decline  of  this  external  prosperity  was  rapid.  When 
Archbishop  Fitz-Ralph,  in  addressing  the  Consistory  of  Avignon, 
referred  to  the  condition  of  Oxford,  he  declared  that  not  more 
than  six  hundred  students  were  in  attendance  at  that  time. 
The  school  program  of  the  Middle  Ages  had  worn  itself  out, 
and  as  yet  there  was  no  awakening  to  other  possible  sources  of 
inspiration.  The  catalogue  of  Oriel  College  Library  in  1375* 
contains  not  a  single  reference  to  a  Latin  classic,  the  whole  list 
being  made  up  of  works  on  Logic,  Philosophy,  Civil  Law, 
Canon  Law,  Theology,  Rhetoric,  Arithmetic,  etc.  When  toward 
the  close  of  the  fourteenth  century,  Winchester  College  and 
New  College,  Oxford,  were  founded  by  William  de  Wykeham, 
even  though  the  purpose  of  the  founder  was  to  make  possible 

,full  and  free  scholarship,  and  though  "perfection  is  the  note  of 
his  whole  design,"  nevertheless  the  authors  and  subjects  pre- 
scribed were  those  with  which  the  schoolmen  had  long  been 
familiar,  and  we  find  no  approach  whatever  to  real  classical 
study. 

During  the  fifteenth  century,  too,  until  near  its  close, 
scholarship  was  at  an  exceedingly  low  ebb.  From  the  date 
of  the  Black  Death  till  the  Renaissance  of  learning — almost 
the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century — the  condition  of 
the  universities  continued  to  grow  worse.  In  the  eyes  of 
continental  scholars,  England  was   a  realm  hopelessly  given 


1  Social  England,  ed.  H.  D.  Traill,  Vol.  II,  p.  65. 

*  Ibid., -p.  72. 

'  Le  Ththtre  en  Angleterre,  p.  2. 

*  Collectanea,  I,  C.  R.  L.  Fletcher  ed.  (Ox.  Hist.  Soc,  1885).. 


EARLY  HISTORY  OF  CLASSICAL  STUDY  IN  ENGLAND     9 

over  to  the  powers  of  ignorance  and  barbarism.  Voigt  says : 
England  war  in  den  Augen  des  schbngeistigen  Italieners 
eine  kummerische  Ecke  der  hetuohnteii  Welt  in  luelcher  krasse 
Unwisseiiheit  und  sinnverwirrende  Scholastik  mit  einandcr  um 
den  Preis  der  Verjinsterung  kdmpften}  The  gloom  which 
enshrouds  the  first  half  of  the  century  would  be  almost  absolute 
were  it  not  for  the  story  of  the  life  of  the  good  Duke 
'  Humphrey  of  Gloucester — the  only  Maecenas  of  his  age.  He 
was  the  first  Englishman  to  catch  the  real  spirit  of  the 
Renaissance,  and  his  enthusiasm  for  learning  and  literature 
displayed  itself  as  well  in  the  patronage  of  almost  every  man  of 
letters  of  the  time  as  in  his  untiring  collection  of  manuscripts. 
The  Eev.  Henry  Anstey,  in  his  summary  of  Humphrey's  contri- 
butions to  the  University  of  Oxford,  says :  '*  A  very  large  propor- 
tion are  theological  works  with  a  less  number  of  mathematical, 
medical,  and  astronomical.  Not  a  few  copies  of  parts  of 
/Aristotle  (translations  it  would  appear),  but  of  other  classical 
authors  only  a  few.  We  find,  however,  copies  of  Cicero, 
Seneca,  Cato  moralizatuSy  Pliny,  Quintilian ;  one  copy  of  Plato, 
one  of  Suetonius,  one  of  Aeschines,  one  of  Livy,  one  of  Ovid; 
of  Greek  classics  none  besides  Aeschines,  unless  we  except  the 
portions  of  Aristotle  and  the  copy  of  Plato,  and  these  were 
probably  Latin  translations.  .It  is  surprising  to  find  that 
English  chronicles  are  almost  unrepresented  (Capgrave  and  the 
Polychronicon  being  the  only  specimens),  and  that  of  the  works 
I  of  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio  there  are  very  numerous  copies,  and 
of  Dante  more  than  one."^  Humphrey  of  Gloucester's 
influence  in  popularizing  a  knowledge  of  the  classic  wTiters 
can  hardly  be  overestimated.  The  Renaissance  in  France 
preceded  that  in  England  by  at  least  half  a  century,  and 
translations  of  the  classics  into  the  French  tongue  had  conse- 
<][uently  been  numerous.  The  Regent  Duke  of  Bedford  sent 
many  of  these  translations  to  Humphrey,  and  in  these  French 
versions  great  numbers  of  Englishmen  made  their  first  acquaint- 
ance with  Cicero  and  Vergil.  Not  that  England  was  entirely 
lacking  in  copies  of  the  great  Latin  authors  in  the  original. 
Chaucer  obviously  knew  Vergil  and  Ovid  well  and  had  some 
acquaintance   with  other  classical  writers.     Works    by  Ovid, 

1  Die  Wiederhelebung  des  klassischen  Alterthums,  Oder  das  erste  Jahrhundert  des 
Bumaniamus,  Vol.  II,  p.  248. 

*Munimenta  Academica  {2  Y0\&.;  Lond.,1868;  The  Rev.  Henry  Anstey  ed.)i  RoUa 
Vol.  I,  pp.  lii-liiL    The  Catalogue  is  in  Vol.  II,  pp.  758+. 


10  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

Terence,  Claudian,  Juvenal,  Lucian,  Horace,  Statins,  Vergil, 
Tally,  and  Quint ilian  were  owned  by  the  monks  of  Durham  in 
1416,^  but  they  were  little  read,  and  that  only  by  a  few  savants, 
^  A  comparatively  large  number  of  Englishmen  knew  French, 
however,^  and  besides  it  was  an  easy  matter  to  secure  English 
translations  of  these  French  versions.  Before  the  year  1420, 
for  example,  Laurent  Premierfait  had  translated  into  French  the 
De  Senectute  and  De  Amicitia  of  Cicero;  these  were  trans- 
lated into  English  by  William  Botoner  and  John  Tiptoft,  Earl 
of  Worcester,  and  formed  one  of  the  early  issues  of  Caxton's 
press,  being  printed  in  1481.  From  a  French  version  Caxton 
also  translated  and  printed  the  Aeneidy  the  modest  preface  of 
(which  did  not  save  it  from  the  scorn  of  Gawain  Douglas,  when, 
in  1513,  he  produced  his  own  rendering,  and  declared  Caxton's 
to  bear  a  very  slight  resemblance  to  its  original — '*na  mare 
like  than  the  Devil  and  Sanct  Austin." 

It  is  easy,  however,  to  overestimate  the  importance  of  these 
Ifirst  signs  of  better  things  to  come.  The  number  of  classics 
printed  in  England  previous  to  1540  is  remarkably  small.*  Not 
till  1521  were  Greek  characters  used  in  any  book  printed  in 
England.  A  catalogue  of  the  library  of  the  University  of 
Cambridge  about  the  year  1475  reveals  **the  entire  absence  of 
Greek  authors,  and  the  almost  equally  entire  absence  of  all 
that  in  the  eyes  of  the  classical  scholar  gives  its  value  to  the 
Latin  literature."*  The  inventory  of  implements  and  books  of 
the  College  of  Auckland,  upon  the  accession  of  William 
Thomeson  to  the  deanery  in  1498,  contains  no  single  classic 
Latin  author.  This  was  **the  school  in  which  many  of  the 
young  nobility  and  gentry  of  the  north  of  England  were 
educated."^  Even  more  striking  is  the  fact  that  in  the  reign 
of  Henry  VII.  Caius  Auberinus,  an  Italian,  was  employed 
by  the  University  of  Cambridge  to  compose  the  public  orations 
and  epistles,  no  one  resident  in  the  university  being  capable  of 
performing  this  task.     Auberinus  was  also  employed  to  teach 


1  Catalogi  Veteres  LibrorumEcclesiae  Dunelmensis  (Surtees  Society,  1838),  pp.  108-9. 

»  For  a  statiite(uiidated,  but  probably  of  the  thirteenth  century),  providing  that 
undergraduates  of  Oxford  be  taught  to  construe  both  in  English  and  French,  see 
Munimenta  Academica,  Vol.  II,  p.  438. 

..  »  For  the  list,  v.  Warton,  History  of  English  Poetry,  ed.  Hazlitt,  III,  p.  114. 

*  J.  Bass  Mullinger,  The  University  of  Cambridge,  p.  323. 

» Implementa  Collegii  de  Auckland  Episcopi,  p.  101;  ( Wills  and  Inventories,  Sur- 
tees Society,  1835). 


EARLY  HISTORY  OF  CLASSICAL'* STUDY  IN  ENGLAND   11 

Terence  in  the  public  schools.^  But  the  Humanistic  movement 
in  Italy  was  forcing  itself  more  and  more  upon  the  attention  of 
Englishmen,  and  pilgrimages  to  the  fountainhead  of  knowledge 
had  begun  before  the  close  of  the  century.  One  of  the  first 
students  thus  to  seek  abroad  what  his  own  land  denied  to  him 
was  John  Tiptoft,  Earl  of  Worcester,  who,  after  a  prolonged 
absence,  returned  to  England,  and  at  his  death  bequeathed  to 
his  old  college,  Balliol,  over  two  hundred  manuscripts  which  he 
had  acquired.  William  Gray,  Robert  Flemmyng,  John  Phrea  (or 
Free) ,  and  William  Sellyng,  all  of  whom  afterwards  received  high 
ecclesiastical  preferment  in  England,  studied  for  some  years  in 
Italy,  and  made  valuable  manuscript  collections,  which  on 
their  return  they  presented  to  Oxford  and  Cambridge. 

About  1475,  Vitelli,  the  first  Greek  lecturer  at  Oxford, 
was  appointed,  and  though  he  does  not  seem  to  have  been  in 
any  sense  a  profound  scholar  nor  to  have  made  any  particular 
impression  upon  the  students  of  that  institution,  his  appoint- 
ment marks  the  beginning  of  a  revolution  in  thought  in  Eng- 
land. He  remained  at  Oxford  till  1489,  when  he  was  called  to 
the  University  of  Paris.  In  the  meantime  one  of  his  students, 
William  Grocyn,  had  left  Oxford  in  1488  in  order  to  spend 
some  time  under  the  learned  Greeks  settled  in  Italy.  He 
returned  in  1491,  and  though  he  received  no  ofiicial  appoint- 
ment, began  at  once  to  teach  Greek.  There  can  be  little 
doubt  that  to  him  is  due  the  first  systematic  teaching  of  that 
language  in  England.  The  question  of  priority  is  dealt  with 
by  Burrows  in  his  Memoir  of  William  Grocyn:  "George  Lily 
[in  his  Virorum  aliquot  in  Britannia  .  .  .  Elogia]  informs  us 
that  he  (Grocyn)  was  *the  first  to  introduce  the  rudiments  of 
the  Greek  and  Latin  tongues  into  Britain,  and  soon  devoted 
himself  more  completely  to  those  studies  in  Italy  under 
Demetrius  Chalcondyles  and  Politian.'  Of  course  he  means 
classical  Latin.  .  .  .  There  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  of  this 
premiership."^ 

The  struggles  of  the  early  Humanists  with  poverty, 
ignorance,  and  discouragements  of  all  kinds  are  almost 
incredible,  and  monuments  of  the  time,  like  the  begging 
letters  of  Erasmus,  speak  only  too  eloquently  of  the  conditions 
in  the   midst   of  which   these   pioneers    of    learning  had  to 

1  Warton,  Op.  cit.  Vol.  Ill,  p.  332. 

a  Collectanea,  II,  p.  337.    (Ox.  Hist.  Soc,  VoL  XVI.) 


12  THE  BIltTHE  OF  HERCULES 

struggle.  Almost  without  exception  they  united  a  religious 
purpose  to  the  more  purely  Humanistic  one,  and  as  a  natural 
consequence  the  emphasis  was  placed  on  Greek  rather  than 
Latin.  On  it  their  enthusiasm  was  lavished,  and  positive 
direct  information  regarding  the  progress  of  the  study  of 
[classical  Latin  during  the  first  two  decades  of  the  sixteenth 
century  is  a  little  difficult  to  come  at.  But  we  know  at  least 
that  the  great  Latin  authors  were  once  more  established  in  the 
seats  of  honor  in  the  schools  and  universities.  In  the  statutes 
of  Brasenose  College,  issued  in  1517,  provision  is  made  for  the 
teaching  of  all  the  chief  Greek  and  Latin  classics.^  In  the 
statutes  of  Corpus  Christi,  founded  in  the  same  year,  provision 
is  made  for  the  appointment  of  a  public  lecturer  in  Greek, 
whose  work  is  evidently  considered  of  the  highest  impor- 
tance. An  outline  of  the  work  to  be  given  by  the  professor 
of  Latin  is  also  furnished  us,  and  this  contains  the  names  of 
all  the  greatest  classical  authors.*  To  extirpate  barbarism — 
larhariem  a  nosfro  alveario  extirpet — is  one  of  the  duties 
explicitly  appointed  to  him.  The  establishment  of  this  school 
— it  was  founded  by  Fox,  Bishop  of  Winchester — with  its  high 
ideals  of  genuine  classical  scholarship  is  characterized  by 
Warton  as  **the  first  conspicuous  instance  of  an  attempt  to 
depart  from  the  narrow  plan  of  education  which  had  hitherto 
been  held  sacred  in  the  universities  of  England."^ 

The  development  of  higher  education  in  England  during  the 
next  twenty  years  is  perhaps  unparalleled.  Not  that  all 
difficulties  had  been  smoothed  away.  On  the  contrary  the 
work  of  Erasmus,  More,  and  the  whole  band  of  Humanists 
met  with  the  most  bitter  opposition  at  every  step.*  At 
Cambridge  the  most  intense  dislike  of  the  innovations  of  "the 
Greeks"  prevailed,  while  Oxford  stood  divided  against  itself. 
Erasmus — Graeculus  iste — ^lectured  on  Greek  grammar  to  empty 
benches.  But  intense  as  the  opposition  was,  it  betokened 
merely  the  natural  reaction  of  the  conservative  elements. 
Luckily  for  the  cause  of  education,  Cardinal  Wolsey  threw 
himself  heart  and  soul  into  the  work  of  carrying  out  the  ideas 
of  the  reformers.      New  colleges  were  built,  chairs  in  Greek 

1  H.  C.  Maxwell  Lyte,  History  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  p.  407. 

2  The  History  of  Corpus  Christi  College,  Fowler,  p.  38,  (Ox.  Hist.  Soc.,Vol.  XXV). 
s  Hist.  Eng.  Poet.,  Vol.  IV,  p.  2. 

*  On  this  phase  of  the  subject  see  the  oi)eniiig  pages  of  Warton's  Hist.  Eng. 
Poet,  Vol.  IV. 


EARLY  HISTORY  OF  CLASSICAL  STUDY  IN  ENGLAND   13 

and  Latin  were  established  and  heavily  endowed  in  older 
institutions,  and  the  mediaeval  philosophy  and  logic  were 
gradually  but  surely  eliminated  from  the  curricula.  Nor  was 
,the  royal  influence  less  potent.  Henry  had  no  lasting,  clear- 
sighted concern  for  the  interests  of  the  new  learning,  but  at 
least  spasmodically  he  gave  it  material  assistance.  In  1524  he 
called  Robert  Wakefield,  the  celebrated  linguist,  who  was  then 
lecturing  at  Tubingen,  to  give  courses  at  Cambridge,  deploring 
at  the  same  time  the  total  ignorance  of  both  the  clergy  and  the 
universities  in  the  ancient  languages.  In  1535,  Richard  Layton 
and  John  ap  Rice  were  sent  by  Cromwell  to  inquire  into  the 
condition  of  things  at  Oxford.  They  were  invested  with 
considerable  authority,  and  they  exercised  it  for  the  benefit  of 
the  new  classical  study.  *'We  have  sett  Dunce  [Duns  Scotus] 
in  Bocardo,"  Layton  wrote  to  Cromwell,  **and  have  utterly 
banished  hym  Oxforde  for  ever  with  all  his  blinde  glosses,  and 
is  nowe  made  a  comon  servant  to  evere  man,  faste  nailede  up 
upon  postes  in  all  comon  howses  of  easement:  id  quod  oculis 
meis  vidi."^ 

Nothing  illustrates  more  clearly  the  essentially  popular 
icharacter  of  the  movement  we  are  considering  than  the  estab- 
lishment of  grammar  schools  throughout  the  country.  From 
1503  till  the  time  of  the  Reformation  more  of  these  schools 
were  established  and  endowed  than  there  had  been  during  the 
preceding  three  hundred  years.*  The  most  noted  was  that 
(founded  by  Colet  in  St.  Paul's  churchyard,  of  which  Lily  was 
formally  appointed  head-master  in  1512,  though  he  had 
probably  been  teaching  its  students  for  some  years  before  this 
date.  That  the  general  standard  set  up  by  Colet  approached  the 
high  mark  of  excellence  which  the  Humanists  set  before  them- 
selves in  the  matter  of  university  reforms,  is  seen  by  a  glance 
at  the  statutes  of  the  school:  *'As  touching  in  this  scole  what 
shall  be  taught  of  the  maisters  and  learned  of  the  scolers  it 
passeth  my  witte  to  devyse  and  determyne  in  particular,  but  in 
general  to  speake  and  sume  what  to  saye  my  mynde  I  would 
they  were  taught  always  in  good  literature  bothe  Laten  and 
Greke,  and  good  autors  such  as  have  the  verrye  Romayne 
eloquence  joyned  with  wisdom.  ..."  And  again:  *'A11 
Barbary,  all  corruption,  all  Laten  adulterate   which  ignorant 

1  See  article  "  Layton"  (Richard)  in  Die.  Nat.  Biog. 
«  Warton,  Op.  ciL,  Vol.  IV,  p.  1. 


14  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

blinde  foles  brought  into  this  worlde  and  with  the  same  hath 
dystained  and  poysonyd  the  olde  laten  speche  and  the  veraye 
Komayne  Tongue  which  in  the  tyme  of  Tully  and  Salust,  and 
Virgin,  and  Terence,  was  usid,  whiche  also  Sainte  Jerome  and 
Sainte  Ambrose  and  Saint  Austen  and  many  holy  Doctors 
lernid  in  theyre  tymes.  I  saye  that  fylthines  and  all  suche 
abusion  whiche  the  later  blynde  woilde  brought  in  whiche  more 
I  rather  may  be  called  blotterature  than  Litterature,  I  utterly 
abannyshe  and  exclude  out  of  this  Scole,  and  charge  the  maisters 
that  they  teache  alweye  that  is  beste,  and  instruct  the  Children 
in  Greke  and  redynge  Laten  in  redynge  unto  them  suche 
autors  that  hathe  with  wisdome  joyned  the  pure  chaste 
Eloquence."^ 

Lily  was  one  of  the  most  distinguished  scholars  of  the 
;  period,  being  unsurpassed  at  this  time  unless  possibly  by 
Grocyn  and  Colet.  He  had  studied  at  Ehodes,  and  later  in 
Italy  under  Sulpitius  and  Pomponius  Laetus,  and  at  length,  a 
finished  classical  scholar,  he  returned  to  England  to  become  the 
^ first  teacher  of  Greek  in  an  English  grammar  school.  The 
institution  soon  became  famous  under  his  direction,  and  at  his 
death  in  1532  he  was  succeeded  by  his  son-in-law,  John 
•Eightwise,  author  of  the  tragedy  of  **Dido,"  who  had  been 
second  master  since  1517.  By  their  enthusiasm  and  entire 
devotion  to  the  cause  of  learning  many  men  of  less  solid 
scholarship  than  Lily  became  famous  as  teachers  of  the 
classical  languages  in  others  of  these  early  foundations,  such 
as  Winchester,  Eton,  and  Wolsey's  school  at  Ipswich,  and  a 
generous  rivalry  soon  contributed  to  a  dissemination  among  all 
classes  of  a  knowledge  of  the  newly  found  treasures  of 
literature. 

If  the  success  which  had  come  to  crown  the  efforts  of  the 
educational  reformers  had  been  sudden  and  almost  spectacular 
in  character,  its  decline  was  no  less  swift  and  striking. 
The  causes  usually  assigned  to  this  downfall  are  three.  The 
,  first  temptation  for  scholars  to  withdraw  their  attention  from 
'  the  legitimate  subjects  of  scholarship  arose  in  connection  with 
the  king's  suit  for  divorce.  The  opinion  of  the  universities 
was  demanded  on  the  question,  and  this  furnished  a  splendid 
opportunity  for  those  who  had  been  masters  of  the  old  system 
of  logic  and  casuistry,  and  who  had  not  yet  been  entirely  won 

1  statutes  of  St.  Pauls  School.    V.  Knight's  Life  of  Colet,  pp.  364-65. 


EARLY  HISTORY  OF  CLASSICAL  STUDY  IN  ENGLAND    15 

from  their  former  idols,  to  return  and  revel  in  the  exercises  for 
which  they  had  been  trained.  Canon  and  civil  law,  which 
had  formerly  occupied  so  important  a  place  in  school  curricula, 
were  again  called  into  requisition  with  all  their  opportunities 
,for  metaphysical  hair-splitting.  During  the  protracted  course 
of  the  divorce  suit  many  scholars  devoted  the  greater  part  of 
their  time  to  such  study. 

The  effect  on  learning  of  Henry's  matrimonial  difficulties 

was    unimportant,    however,    compared    to    that    consequent 

upon  the  suppression  of  fhe  monasteries.     Many  years  previous 

to  the  issue  of  the  final  edict,  the  process  of  gradual  confiscation 

had  begun,  Wolsey  having  successfully  manipulated  a  scheme 

whereby  the  revenue  of  individual  houses  was  diverted  to  the 

cause  of  secular  education.     There  can  be  no  doubt  that  these 

first  confiscations  were,  on  the  whole,  of  a  highly  beneficent 

character.    That  the  monasteries  were  too  often  the  centres  of 

idleness,  ignorance,  and  immorality  there  can  be  no  denying.^ 

But  they  had  been  for  many  years  the  great  centres  of  popular 

education,  and  if  the  instruction  they  gave  left  much  to  be 

desired,  it  was  infinitely  preferable  to  the  total  darkness  in  which 

many  districts  were  plunged  upon  their  suppression.    A  universal 

wail  went  up  from  all  sections  of  the  country,  in  which  were 

mingled  commiseration  for  the  wretchedness  which  had  come 

upon  monks  and  nuns,  and  sorrow  for  the  extinguishing  of  the 

only  light  which    shone  in  upon  the  dense  ignorance  of  the 

provinces.     Fuller  tells  us:     "There  was  now  (1546)  a  general 

..decay  of  students,  no  college  having  more  scholars  therein  than 

hardly  those  of  the  foundation ;  no  volunteers  at  all,  and  only 

persons  pressed,  in  a  manner,  by  their  places  to  reside.     Indeed 

on  the  fall  of  abbeys  fell  the  heart  of  all  scholars  fearing  the 

ruin  of  learning."^     Naturally  the  blow  fell  with  much  greater 

force  on  the  lower  classes,  for  among  those  in  high  life^  the 

custom  of  engaging  tutors  to  attend  to  the  education  of  their 

children  had  become  common. 

The  last  and  greatest  of  the  causes  for  the  decay  of  learn- 
ing was  really  an  outgrowth  of   the  Renaissance  itself,  viz., 

1  See  for  example  the  "  Fm^a^ion  0/ iAg  Diocese  of  Norwich,''  1492-1533;  passim 
(Camden  Society,  1888). 

2  History  of  the  University  of  Cambridge,  p.  173. 

3  An  interesting  account  of  what  this  instruction  consisted  in,  is  given  in  some 
letters  addressed  to  Cromwell  by  the  tutor  of  his  son.  V.  Craik,  Literature  and 
Learning  in  England,  Vol.  II,  p.  209  K. 


16  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

the  Reformation.  When  once  the  new  movement  had  laid 
its  all-powerful  grasp  on  the  nation  it  seemed  to  engross  the 
thoughts  of  men  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  interests.  Many 
scholars  turned  aside  from  purely  literary  researches  to  give 
their  whole  attention  to  theology  and  polemics,  to  the  study 
of  church  history  and  the  origins  of  Christianity.  This  was 
followed  by  a  growing  contempt  for  all  secular  knowledge. 
Academic  degrees  were  contemned  as  being  pernicious,  and  not 
in  accordance  with  the  word  of  God.  Exhibitions  and  schol- 
arships were  cut  down,  and  somewhat  later  Oxford  was  stripped 
by  religious  zealots  of  the  magnificent  collection  of  manu- 
scripts which  had  been  presented  by  Humphrey  of  Gloucester. 
Under  Sir  Thomas  Smith  and  Sir  John  Cheke — their  knight- 
hood dates  from  a  period  after  they  had  severed  their  connec- 
tion with  the  university — Cambridge  had  become  famous  for 
Greek  scholarship  throughout  Europe.  When  they  had  taken 
their  departure,  however,  the  reputation  of  this  university  sank 
quickly  and  hopelessly  also. 

On  the  accession  of  Edward  VI.  the  condition  of  affairs 
became  speedily  worse.  The  rapacity  of  the  courtiers  robbed 
the  universities  of  their  endowments,  so  that  scholarships  were 
almost  unknown,  and  the  clergy  were  likewise  robbed  of  their 
revenues,  learning  becoming  more  and  more  generally  dis- 
credited. Latimer's  lament  over  the  decay  of  divinity  went 
forth  accompanied  by  Roger  Ascham's  lament  over  the  decline 
of  true  scholarship  and  the  ruin  of  grammar  schools  through- 
out England,  coupled  with  his  bitter  prediction  of  the  extinc- 
tion of  the  universities  in  the  near  future. 

Ascham's  prediction  did  not  receive  literal  fulfilment,  but 
it  was  at  least  true  that  the  universities  did  not  really  rally 
before  the  end  of  the  century.  This  fact  is  likely  to  be  for- 
gotten when  one  thinks  of  the  attention  which  was  given  to  Latin 
and  Greek  by  Lady  Jane  Grey,  Queen  Elizabeth  and  the  court 
circle,  not  to  mention  others  of  the  large  number  of  brilliant 
women  who  distinguished  themselves  as  classical  students. 
The  truth  is,  however,  that  this  enthusiasm  was  in  part  at 
'least  a  fad,  and  its  influence  not  of  a  kind  to  affect  popular 
education  in  the  least,  nor  even  to  inspire  the  universities. 
Strype's  Annals  and  Ecclesiastical  Memoirs  bristle  with  reitera- 
tions of  the  statement  that  the  ancient  glory  of  the  universities 
had  departed.      In  1550   he  tells  us   that  **the   universities 


EARLY  HISTORY  OF  CLASSICAL  STUDY  IN  ENGLAND    17 

were  but  in  a  sorry  declining  condition,  occasioned  by  the 
discouragements  given  to  learning,  the  laity  laying  hold  of  the 
spiritual  preferments  so  much  as  they  did,  designed  and 
appointed  for  the  reward  and  maintenance  of  the  clergy."^  In 
,1553  Latimer  estimated  that  there  were  then  ten  thousand  stu- 
dents less  in  England  than  there  were  twenty  years  before. 
Speaking  of  Richard  Cheney,  B.D.,  consecrated  Bishop  of 
Gloucester,  April  19,  1562,  Strype  says;  "He  seemed  to 
be  well  instructed  in  Greek  literature,  which  was  rare  in  those 
days."*  He  reports  in  these  terms  a  speech  made  before  the 
queen  by  Thomas  Williams,  speaker  of  the  Lower  House,  on 
January  15,  1562:  "He  took  notice  of  the  want  of  schools; 
that  at  least  an  hundred  were  wanting  in  England,  which 
before  this  time  had  been  [being  destroyed  I  suppose  he  meant] 
by  the  dissolution  of  monasteries  and  religious  houses,  frater- 
nities and  colleges.  "^  Strype  also  speaks  of  the  decay  of  learning 
in  general,  especially  in  the  universities,  and  mentions  the  fact 
that  the  great  market  towns  were  without  schools  or  preachers. 
He  quotes  from  James  Pilkington,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  regard- 
ing the  small  number  of  scholars  in  the  universities  and  their 
general  wretched  condition.*  In  1568  the  queen  encouraged 
the  universities  to  study  divinity,  "which  study  had  decayed 
owing  to  laymen  having  swallowed  up  ecclesiastical  places  and 
preferments."^  Gabriel  Harvey  frequently  rails  against  the 
condition  of  the  universities  and  the  character  of  the  students 
in  his  day.  In  a  letter**  to  Dr.  Young,  master  of  Pembroke 
Hall,  and  of  date  November  1,  1573,  he  says:  "Na  I  think 
verrely  if  sum  miht  have  there  wils  thai  shuld  have  nether 
Greek  nor  Latin  nor  ani  thing  els  red  unto  them.  .  .  .  Thus 
within  a  few  years  al  shuld  be  turnid  topset  tirvi;  and  Pem- 
brook  Hal  shuld  set  forth  as  mani  good  schollars  as  it  hath 
now  good  students;  and  that  is  as  few,  I  heleev  as  ever  you 
Jcnetu  in  the  hows  sins  you  were  first  fellow,''^  It  is  only  fair  to 
add  that  he  goes  on  to  speak  of  the  "great  and  notable  schol- 
lars" which  the  Hall  had  produced  "within  this  twenti  years  or 
there  about." 


1  Ecclesiastical  Memoirs,  Pt.  I,  p.  404, 
>  Annals,  Vol.  I,  p.  418. 
«  Annals,  Vol.  I,  p.  437. 

*  Annals,  Vol.  I,  p.  537. 

^  Annals,  Vol.  IV,  p.  263. 

•  Letter  Book  of  Gabriel  Harvey,  pp.  52-53  (Camden  Society,  1884). 


18  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

Until  the  end  of  the  century  political  domination  rendered 
futile  all  strivings  toward  reform  on  the  part  of  the  univer- 
sities. The  influence  exercised  by  Leicester,  who,  from  1565 
to  1588,  was  Chancellor  of  Oxford,  was  far  from  beneficent 
—"an  influence,"  Huber  terms  it,  ^'shackled  by  no  law, 
no  right,  no  moral  consideration,  but  determined  simply  by 
his  own  personal  interests.  ...  As  soon  as  he  recognized 
in  the  university  a  useful  tool  he  used  it  unscrupulously.  "^ 
But  whatever  causes  conspired  to  produce  such  unfortunate 
effects,  their  dominion  was  absolute,  and  prevailed  till  the 
beginning  of  the  next  century.  Another  proof  of  the  low 
esteem  in  which  Englishmen  held  their  own  educational  insti- 
tutions is  seen  in  the  exodus  of  students  at  this  period  to  the 
continental  universities.  To  such  proportions  had  this  evil 
grown  that  it  was  at  length  made  the  subject  of  legislation. 
In  a  letter  dated  December  15,  1580,  written  by  the  lords  and 
others  of  the  council  to  William  Chaderton,  Lord  Bishop  of 
Chester,  attention  is  called  to  the  great  harm  resulting  to  her 
Majesty's  dominions  from  this  practice,  i.e.,  "the  education  of 
great  number  of  yonge  gentlemen  and  other  her  subjects  in  the 
partes  beyond  the  sea's,  "^  and  stringent  measures  for  its  future 
prevention  or  diminution  were  adopted.  The  justifiable  pride 
which  England  had  felt  in  her  national  seats  of  learning  in  the 
days  of  Grocyn  and  Colet,  of  Lily  and  Linacre,  of  More  and 
Erasmus,  and  later  when  Cheke  and  Smith  had  made  Cam- 
bridge famous  in  the  world  of  scholars,  seemed  to  have  become 
a  tradition  from  the  distant  past,  and  contemporary  evidence 
is  practically  unanimous  to  the  effect  that  an  ardent  spirit  of 
.study  and  research  was  entirely  lacking  in  the  universities  even 
down  to  the  close  of  the  century. 

The  conclusion  to  which  the  foregoing  paragraphs  point  is 
of  interest  in  a  study  of  the  Kenaissance  movement  in  England. 
Briefly  summed  up,  the  situation  is  as  follows :  After  a  short 
period  of  almost  phenomenal  development  the  English  univer- 
sities and  secondary  schools  entered  upon  a  period  of  decline, 
dating  from  the  decade  subsequent  to  the  end  of  the  first 
quarter  of  the  sixteenth  century.  By  the  middle  of  the 
century  the  universities  were  in  "a  sorry  declining  condition," 

1  Huber:  Die  Englische  Universitaten.  Translated  by  Francis  W.  Newman, 
Vol.  I,  p.  351.  On  the  general  subject  of  the  decline  of  the  universities  till  the  end 
of  the  century,  see  Vol.  I,  Chap.  VIII,  passiryi. 

a  Desiderata  Curiosa—'Pecli,  Lib.  Ill,  99. 


EARLY  HISTORY  OF  CLASSICAL  STUDY  IN  ENGLAND    1^ 

and  it  was  only  toward  the  close  of  Elizabeth's  reign  that  the 
new  learning  firmly  reestablished  itself.  Curiously  enough  this 
pause  in  the  progress  of  scholarship  and  education  coincides 
chronologically — at  least  till  the  beginning  of  the  last  quarter 
of  the  century — with  a  pause  in  the  literary  development  which 
had  been  marked  by  the  work  of  Wyatt  and  Surrey.  From 
the  time  when  they  ceased  to  write  until  Lyly  began  to  produce 
his  plays,  we  have  no  great  achievement  in  literature  with  the 
exception  of  the  Mirror  for  Magistrates^  for  the  principal 
contributors  to  TotteVs  Miscellany  had  been  long  dead  when  it 
was  published  in  1557,  and  the  plays  which  belong  to  this 
j)eriod  are  of  much  greater  interest  historically  than  as  pure 
literature.  In  other  words,  the  Renaissance  of  learning  and 
literature  in  England  during  the  early  sixteenth  century  died 
/out,  and  it  was  a  new  movement,  another  renaissance,  and  due 
at  least  in  part  to  other  causes,  which  was  rendered  illustrious 
by  such  names  as  those  of  the  university  wits,  of  Jonson,  and 
of  Shakspere.  In  the  earlier  literary  movement  the  influence 
of  Italian  literature  dominated ;  in  the  later  movement  it  was 
still  potent  though  by  no  means  supreme. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   BEVIVAL  OP  THE   STUDY   OF  PLAUTUS 

When  we  consider  the  history  of  the  study  of  Plautua 
through  the  Middle  Ages  side  by  side  with  that  of  the  study  of 
Terence,  a  rather  peculiar  phenomenon  is  presented.  The  latter 
early  became  one  of  the  names  most  frequently  met  with  in 
school  curricula ;  at  no  time  during  the  centuries  of  compara- 
tive darkness  was  he  entirely  forgotten.  The  purity  and  pro- 
priety of  his  language  made  him  a  favorite  in  the  schools ;  and 
when  from  a  moral  point  of  view  his  works  were  objection- 
able, attempts  were  made  to  obviate  this  difficulty,  e.g.,  the 
rifacimenti  of  Hrotsvitha,  the  nun  of  Gandersheim,  in  the 
tenth  century.  Terence  won  fame  for  another  reason  also :  he 
was  prized  as  a  great  teacher  of  mankind,  was  ranked  with  the 
philosophers,  and  his  sententious  bits  of  wisdom  were  as  often 
!  quoted  in  the  Middle  Ages  as  were  the  epigrams  of  Pope  by  a 
later  generation.  It  was  for  this  reason  that  Chasles  declares 
Terence  to  have  been  so  popular  in  France  during  the  sixteenth 
century.  **//  se  mele  aux  recherches  de  V erudition  un  goUt  qui 
appartient  a  V adolescence  des  litteratures,  le  goilt  de  sentences.'*''^ 
In  England  we  have  already  noted  the  transcriptions  of  Henry 
of  Winchester,  and  Benedict  of  Peterborough;  Madden  tells 
us  that  **no  classic  author  is  oftener  quoted  by  monkish 
writers,  and  in  the  British  Museum  alone  there  are  above 
thirty  manuscript  copies  written  between  the  tenth  and  fif- 
teenth centuries."* 

Very  different  was  the  fate  of  Plautus.  In  the  third 
century  a  comedy  was  written,  called  the  Querolus — a  sort  of 
continuation  of  the  Aulularia, — the  son  of  Euclio,  the  miser, 
being  the  central  character.  Throughout  the  Middle  Ages  this 
work  was  very  generally  ascribed  to  Plautus,  and  in  this  con- 
nection his  name  was  more  widely  known  than  in  any  other. 
In  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century  his  works  seem  to  have 

» La  Comidie  en  France  au  XVI"^  SQcle,  p.  10.    Compare  the  English  books  of 
selections  compiled  by  Udall  and  others  somewhat  later. 
>  Warton,  Hist.  Eng.  Poet.,  n,  p.  217. 

20 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  THE  STUDY  OF  PLAUTUS  21 

been  still  generally  read.     Even  Jerome  tells  us  how  he  would 

f  turn  to  Plautus  after  spending  long  nights  in  bemoaning  the 
wickedness  of  his  life.  But  the  difficulty  of  the  language  pre- 
vented his  comedies  from  obtaining  a  firm  foothold  in  the 
schools,  and  in  the  course  of  time  the  last  twelve  plays  were 
lost.  About  the  close  of  the  tenth  century  Ratherius  men- 
tions the  Persa,  and  from  that  time  till  the  Renaissance  there 
is  no  evidence  of  anyone  having  read  these  last  dramas. 
The  first  sign  of  a  renewal  of  interest  is  to  be  found  in  two 
plays,  written  by  Vital  de  Blois,  not  later  than  the  middle  of 
the  twelfth  century.  The  first  of  these  was  the  Aulularia — an 
adaptation  of  the  Querolus,  which  latter  play  he  supposed  to  be 
by  Plautus;   the  second,  which  treats  the  Amphitryon  story, 

,  was  the  Geta,  the  immediate  source  of  which,  however,  was 
probably  some  drama  or  story  of  the  early  centuries  of  the 
Christian  era.^     Petrarch  and  the  band  of  Renaissance  scholars 

^under  whom  the  great  awakening  movement  began  in  Italy 
were  enthusiastic  students  of  Plautus,  though  as  yet  only  the 
first  eight  comedies  were  accessible.  But  in  1427  Kikolaus 
Cusanus  brought  from  Germany  to  Rome  a  manuscript  which 
had  long  been  coveted  by  the  Italian  Humanists,  and  which 
contained  the  tweWe  long-lost  comedies  of  Plautus.  This 
event — one  of  the  most  important  and  remarkable  in  the  whole 
history  of  the  Humanistic  movement — gave  a  strong  impulse 
to  classical  study,  especially  to  that  of  Plautus.  Study 
and  text-criticism  of  his  works  became  general  throughout 
Italy,  and  scholars  earned  reputations  for  their  knowledge  of 
Plautus  alone,  and  for  their  ingenuity  in  supplying  the  numer- 
ous and  extensive  lacunae  in  the  plays.  Particularly  famous  in 
this  connection  were  Codrus   (1446-1500),  who   supplied  the 

t  missing  scenes  of  the  Aulularia,  and  Hermolaus  Barbarus 
(1454-1494),  who  performed  a  similar  service  for  the  Amphi- 
truo^  The  re-staging  of  the  Roman  comedies  proceeded  much 
more  slowly.  The  Middle  Ages  had  not  only  allowed  the 
ancient  dramatic  works  to  fall  into  oblivion ;  they  had  forgot- 
ten the  very  nature  of  a  drama,  and  "tragedy"  and  **comedy" 
had  come  to  mean  two  great  divisions  of  literature  rather  than 
particular  species.     The  general  conception  of  comedy  is  illus- 

»  V.  Cloetta:  Beitriige  zur  Litteraturgeschichte  des  Mittelalters,  pp.  68-71  fl. 
»  On  this  whole  subject  of  Plautus  revival  in  Italy  v.  Creizenach,  Oeichichte  des 
Neueren  Drama$,  I,  573  ff. 


22  THE  BIRTHE   OF  HERCULES 

,  trated  by  Dante's  definition  prefixed  to  the  Divina  Commedia. 
Regarding  the  putting  of  plays  on  the  boards  the  most  absurd 
notions  prevailed.*  But  the  revival  of  interest  in  literary  study 
of  the  plays  necessarily  carried  with  it  a  revival  of  interest  in 
scenic  representations.  To  Pomponio  Leto,  a  citizen  of  Rome, 
is  generally  ascribed  the  honor  of  having  first  in  his  day  brought 
upon  the  stage  the  works  of  Plautus  and  Terence,  as  well  as  of 
modern  writers.  In  1484  a  historical  drama  was  presented  in 
the  Vatican  in  the  presence  of  the  pope  and  the  cardinals,  and  we 
hear  of  a  representation  of  the  Aulularia  on  the  Quirinal  about 
the  same  time.  Nor  was  the  enthusiasm  confined  to  Rome. 
At  Ferrara,  in  1486,  a  translation  of  the  Menaechmi  was  pre- 
sented at  the  royal  palace,  Duke  Ercole  I.  being  himself  the 
author  of  the  translation.  In  1487  and  1491  similar  representa- 
tions of  the  Ampliitruo  were  given.  But  in  spite  of  this  enthu- 
siasm Rome  contained  no  permanent  theatre  in  the  year  1492. '^ 
In  England  the  revival  of  interest  in  the  works  of  the  Latin 
dramatists  began,  of  course,  at  a  much  later  date.  One  of 
the  earliest  references  to  Plautus  in  the  works  of  an  Eng- 
lish author  is  found  in  Skelton,  who  from  his  youth  had 
been  a  close  student  of  the  classics  and  of  current  French 
literature.  In  1490,  Caxton,  in  the  preface  to  The  Bohe  of 
Eneydos  compyled  hy  Vyrgyle,  says  in  reference  to  Skelton: 
**He  hath  late  translated  the  epystlys  of  Tulle  and  the  boke  of 
dy adorns  syculus,  and  diverse  other  werkes  oute  of  latyn  in  to 
Englysshe,  not  in  rude  and  olde  langage  but  in  polysshed  and 
ornate  termes  craftely,  as  he  that  hath  redde  vyrgyle,  ovyde, 
tullye,  and  all  the  other  noble  poetes  and  oratours,  to  me 
unknowen."''  In  his  SpeJce,  Parrot  Skelton  is  describing  the 
change  that  has  recently  come  over  the  schools : 

In  Accademia  Parrot  dare  no  probleme  kepe  • 

For  Greece  fari  so  occupyeth  the  chayre, 
That  Latinum  fari  may  fall  to  rest  and  slepe, 

And  Syllogisari  was  drowned  at  Sturbrydge  fayre, 

but  a  few  lines  farther  on  he  tells  us : 

^  Plauti  in  his  comedies  a  chyld  shall  now  reherse.* 
Skelton  has   one  other  reference  to   Plautus,  viz.    in  his 

1  V.  Cloetta,  Op.  cit.,  I,  pp.  2,  3,  4  et  passim,  and  Crelzenacli  in  his  introduction. 
9  Klein,  Geschichte  des  Dramas,  Bd.  IV,  pp.  248-251. 

3  Quoted  by  Dyce  in  his  edition  of  The  Poetical  Works  of  Skelton,  Vol.  I,  xL 
*  Dyce's  edition,  Vol.  II,  1.  181. 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  THE  STUDY  OF  PLAUTUS  23 

Garlande  of  Laurelh     It  occurs  in  a  list  of  the  *'poetis  laureat 
of  many  dyverse  nacyons"  amongst  whom  he  mentions 

j  Mayster  Terence,  the  famous  comicar, 

'  With  Plautus  that  wrote  full  many  a  comody.* 

Of  neither  of  these  poems  has  the  date  been  accurately 
^determined,  but  the  appearance  of  both  was  probably  anterior 
to  1520.  More's  Utopia  (1515-1516)  contains  a  reference  to 
the  staging  of  Plautus's  plays.^  That  Plautus  had  already 
become  one  of  the  chief  Latin  text-books  in  the  universities  we 
know  from  several  sources.  The  statutes  of  Brasenose  College 
issued  in  June,  1517,  include  both  Plautus  and  Terence  in  the 
list  of  Latin  classics  for  the  teaching  of  which  provision  is 
made.'  The  statutes  of  Corpus  Christi  College,  founded  in 
the  same  year,  make  similar  provisioa  for  the  teaching  of 
Plautus  and  Terence.*  In  1520  Linacre  made  a  catalogue  of 
the  books  in  the  library  of  his  friend  Grocyn,  who  had  died  in 
the  preceding  year,  and  in  this  list  we  find  the  entry  '*Comedie 
Plauti,  p.  in  pr.'"^  Another  list,  "svritten  on  a  small  piece  of 
paper,  and  in  a  different  hand,  is  also  preserved,  which  Burrows 
surmises  is  that  of  books  lent  to  different  people  or  colleges. 
On  this  list  the  name  of  Plautus  stands  first.**  In  this  same 
year — 1520 — an  event  took  place  which  puts  it  beyond  question 
that  Plautus  had  been  well  known  to  English  students  for  some 
time,  viz.,  the  staging  of  one  of  his  plays  with  great  splendor, 
as  part  of  the  entertainment  of  the  French  hostages  then  in 
England.  It  was  probably  given  in  Latin,  but  unfortunately 
very  little  information  has  come  down  to  us  regarding  the  event. 
.Holinshed  thus  describes  it:  *'The  king  used  familiarlie  these 
four  hostages  and  on  the  seventh  dale  of  maie  prepared  a 
disguising,  and  caused  his  great  chamber  at  Greenwich  to 
be  staged,  and  great  lights  to  be  set  on  pillors  that  were  gilt, 
with  basons  gilt,  and  the  roofe  was  covered  with  blue  sattin, 
set  full  of  presses  of  fine  gold  and  flowers.  .  .  .  Into  this 
came  the  king,  and  the  queene,  with  the  hostages,  and  there 
was  a  goodlie  comedie  of  Plautus  plaied."^     This  is  the  only 

1  Dyce's  edition,  Vol.  1, 11.  353-54. 

'  V.  p.  25  of  the  present  study. 

»  H.  C.  Maxwell  Lyte,  History  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  p.  407. 

<  Fowler,  The  History  of  Corpus  Christi  Coll.,  p.  39  (Ox.  Hist.  Soc,  xxv). 

'Burrows,  Collectanea,  II,  Pt.  V,  p.  320  (Ox.  Hist.  Soc,  xvi). 

«  Op.  cit.,  p.  324. 

T  Hollnshed's  Chronicles,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  835. 


24  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

account  I  have  found  of  the  staging  of  a  play  of  Plautus 
during  the  first  half  of  the  century,*  though  we  may  pretty 
certainly  conclude  that  such  representations  and  those  of  other 
plays  modeled  on  Roman  comedy  were  common  in  the  schools 
and  universities  throughout  the  period.^ 

Another  example  of  the  importance  which  was  beginning  to 
attach  to  Plautus  in  the  schools  is  given  us  by  Fox  in  his 
account  of  the  life  of  Robert  Barnes,  who  suffered  martyrdom 
in  1540.  He  was  an  Augustinian  friar  of  Cambridge,  then  a 
student  at  Louvain,  and  finally  returned  to  Cambridge,  where 
he  was  made  prior  of  the  house.  *'At  that  time  the  knowledge 
of  good  letters  was  scarcely  entred  into  the  universitie,  all 
things  being  full  of  rudeness  and  barbaritie,  saving  in  very  few 
which  were  privie  and  secret.  Whereupon  Barns,  having 
.some  feeling  of  better  learning  and  authors,  began  in  his  house 
to  read  Terence,  Plautus,  and  Cicero,  so  that  what  with  his 
Industrie,  pains,  and  labour,  and  with  the  help  of  Thomas 
Parnel,  his  scholer,  whom  he  brought  from  Lovain  with  him, 
reading  Copia  verhorum  et  rerum^  he  caused  the  house  shortly  to 
flourish  with  good  letters,  and  made  a  great  part  of  the  house 
learned  (which  before  were  drowned  in  barbarous  rudeness)."* 

The  first  translation  of  any  part  of  Plautus's  comedies  which 
I  have  met  is  in  Sir  Thomas  Elyot's  magnum  opus — The  BoJce 
named  the  Governour^  which  was  published  in  1531.  The 
author  is  making  a  general  defence  of  poets,  and  in  particular 
he  wishes  to  show  "that  by  comedies  good  counsaile  is 
ministered."  He  translates  ten  lines  from  the  Eunuchus  of 
Terence  in  defence  of  this  position  and  then  continues:  '*But 
nowe  to  come  to  other  poetes  what  may  be  better  saide  than  is 
written  by  Plautus  in  his  first  comedie? 

"Verily  Vertue  dothe  all  thinges  excelle. 
For  if  libertie,  helthe,  lyvyng  and  substance,  Plautus, 

Our  countray,  our  parentes  and  children  do  well      "^"^Hl^^turf^^' 
It  hapneth  by  vertue ;  she  doth  all  advance. 
Vertue  hath  all  things  under  govemaunce, 
And  in  whom  of  vertue  is  founden  great  plentie, 
Any  thinge  that  is  good  may  never  be  deintie."* 

1  But  see  the  reference  to  More's  Utopia,  p.  25  of  the  present  study. 

»  Hazlitt's  edition  of  Warton  is  wrong  in  giving  the  date  of  the  above  playoas 
1528,  and  in  this  mistake  has  been  foUowed  by  some  later  writers.  V.  Hist.  Eng. 
Poet.,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  289,  and  Vol.  IV,  p.  5. 

s  Fox's  Acts  and  Monuments,  Vol.  II,  p.  517,  col.  3. 

«  The  Qovemour,  Vol.  I,  pp.  127-28. 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  THE  STUDY  OF  PLAUTUS  25 

The  passage  which  Elyot  has  translated  is  from  the  Amphi- 
4ruo  of  Plautus  (Act  II,  Sc.  ii,  11.  17-21)  and  reads  as  follows ; 

Virtus  praemium  est  optimum: 
Virtus  omnibus  rebus  anteitprofecto. 
Libertas,  salus,  vita,  res,  parentes, 
Patria  et  prognati  tutantur,  servantur: 

Virtue  omnia  in  se  habet:  omnia  assunt  bona  quern  penes  est 
virtus. 

That  the  leaders  in  the  educational  revolution  which  was 
being  accomplished,  knew  Plautus  well  goes  without  saying. 
^  Latimer's  sermons  frequently  allude  to  some  character  of  his 
comedies  or  quote  some  moral  saying  from  them.  Erasmus 
seems  to  have  been  particularly  fond  of  the  Latin  comedies, 
and  to  have  known  them  particularly  well.  I  have  selected 
only  a  few  passages  bearing  on  this  point,  drawn  chiefly  from 
his  Colloquies: 

I  won't  say  drink  and  blow,  which  Plautus  says  is  a  hard  matter 
todo.» 

In  short  I  think  your  landlord  was  a  greater  miser  than  Euclio  in 
Plautus,^  (i.e.  in  the  Aulularia). 

Will  you  admit  of  Plautus  for  an  author?  Yes,  if  he  says  that 
which  is  right.* 

Sometimes  with  the  old  fellow  in  Plautus,  they  [old  men]  are 
brought  back  to  their  horn-book  again,  to  learn  to  spell  their  fortune 
in  love.* 

Sir  Thomas  More's  Utopia  (1515-16)  contains  a  reference 
to  the  occasions  *' when  one  of  Plautus's  comedies  is  on  the 
stage,  and  a  company  of  servants  are  acting  their  parts,'*  and 
the  reference  is  of  such  a  nature  that  it  would  seem  to  justify 
the  conclusion  that  such  an  event  was  by  no  means  uncommon 
at  that  time. 

Such  examples  prove  beyond  question  that  the  scholars  of 
the  period  knew  Plautus,  and  that  very  intimately.  It  is 
perhaps  worthy  of  note,  because  it  is  what  we  should  not 
expect,  that   Plautus  is  not  mentioned  in  the  list  of  books 


» Erasmus's  CoZiog-MW*.  translation  by  N.  Bailey,  Vol.  I,  p.  427(Reeves  and  Turner, 
Iiond.,  1878).  The  remark  is  made  by  Tranio  to  Theuropides  in  the  Moatellaria,  Act 
III,  Sc.  IL 

*  Ibid.,  The  Wealthy  Miser,  Vol.  II,  p.  277. 

»Ibid.,  The  Epicurean,  Vol.  II,  p.  328. 

4  Praise  of  Folbj.  Once  an  old  man  and  twice  a  child,  p.  18  (Reeves  and  Turner, 
Xiond.).    The  reference  is  probably  to  Stalino  in  the  Casina. 


2Q  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

comprising  the  library  of  the  Earl  of  Kildare  in  1526.^  But 
the  signilBicance  of  an  omission  of  this  sort  may  be  very  small 
or  nothing.  Indeed  we  can  hardly  be  far  wrong  in  asserting 
that  in  the  schools  and  universities  at  this  time  no  Latin 
author,  with  the  exception  of  Cicero,  was  so  generally  studied 
and  known.  This  conclusion  is  strengthened  by  a  statement 
such  as  that  made  by  Ascham  in  a  letter  to  Brandesby  in 
^542-43.  There  had  been  no  regular  Greek  professorship  at 
Cambridge  previous  to  1540,  and  Ascham  had  been  appointed 
by  the  university  at  a  liberal  salary  to  make  up  the  deficiency 
as  well  as  possible,  but  in  the  above-mentioned  year  Henry 
VIII.  had  established  six  Eegius  Professorships,  and  Cambridge 
acquired  the  services  of  men  like  Smith  and  Cheke,  who  were 
to  make  famous  throughout  Europe  the  name  of  the  university. 
In  the  letter  referred  to,  Ascham  is  describing  and  exulting  over 
the  improved  condition  of  things:  '* Sophocles  and  Eurip- 
ides," he  declares,  *'are  now  more  familiar  to  us  than  Plautus 
was  when  you  were  here.  .  .  .  There  are  more  copies  of 
Isocrates  to  be  met  with  now  than  there  were  of  Terence  then. 
Yet  we  do  not  treat  the  Latin  writers  with  contempt,  but  we 
cherish  the  best  of  them  who  flourished  in  the  golden  age 
of  their  literature. '  "*  That  Ascham  himself  knew  Latin  comedy 
well  we  have  abundant  evidence  in  The  Schoolmaster.  Besides, 
frequent  references  considerable  space  is  devoted  to  a  eulogy 
of  the  works  of  Plautus,  followed  by  a  critical  examination 
and  comparison  of  the  comedies  of  both  Plautus  and  Terence. 
'*But  surely,"  he  says,  **if  judgment  for  the  tongue  and 
direction  for  the  manners  be  wisely  joined  with  the  diligent 
reading  of  Plautus,  then  truly  Plautus,  for^that  pureness  of 
the  Latin  tongue  in  Kome,  when  Kome  did  most  flourish  in 
well-doing,  and  so  thereby  in  well-speaking  also,  is  such  a 
plentiful  storehouse  for  common  eloquence  in  mean  matters, 
and  all  private  men's  affairs,  as  the  Latin  tongue,  for  that 
respect,  hath  not  the  like  again.  When  I  remember  the 
worthy  time  of  Rome  wherein  Plautus  did  live,  I  must  needs 
honor  the  talk  of  that  time,  which  we  see  Plautus  doth  use."* 
Ascham  then  goes  on  to  consider  the  matter,  metre,  and  verse 
of  both   comedy-writers,    all   of   which   he   finds   of    a  very 

1  Retrospective  Review,  Vol.  I  (2d  Series),  p.  136. 

2  Ascham,  Works,  Vol.  I,  Pt.  I,  xxxvii  (Lond.,  1865). 

3  Ascham,  Works,  Vol.  in,  p.  345  ff. 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  THE  STUDY  OF  PLAUTUS  27 

ordinary  character.  He  commends  Plautus  chiefly  for  copious- 
ness of  language,  and  Terence  for  the  purity  and  propriety  of 
his  diction. 

That  Plautus  continued  to  be  read  at  the  universities 
during  the  succeeding  days  when  learning  had  declined 
we  can  hardly  doubt,  though  our  information  regarding  the 
school  curricula  of  this  time  is  not  very  extensive.^  At 
Cambridge  his  comedies  must  have  claimed  a  considerable 
share  of  attention,  for  in  1564,  on  the  occasion  of  the  Queen's 
visit,  the  Aulularia  was  staged  by  students  of  the  different 
€olleges.  *'This  day  at  ix""®  of  the  clock  after  supper  was 
plaid  before  her  Ma"®  in  the  King's  Colledge  Chapel  upon 
a  scaffold  Aulularia  Plauti  the  partes  whereof  were  chosen 
through  the  whole  university,  King's  Colledge  being  only 
accepted."^  The  works  of  the  band  of  dramatists  known  as 
the  "university  wits"  make  occasional  mention  of  both  the 
Roman  comedy-writers.  From  the  time  of  the  Renaissance 
Plautus 's  position  as  a  classic  of  Latin  literature  has  been 
assured,  and  at  no  time  since  then  have  his  works  been  in  any 
danger  of  undue  neglect. 

» In  Gascolgne's  Glasse  of  Government  we  have  four  boys  just  about  to  enter  the 
}  university,  and  their  previous  study  has  been  on  the  Colloquies  of  Erasmus,  Cicero, 
Terence,  and  Vergil.  [  The  Complete  Poems  of  George  Gascoigne,  ed.  Hazlitt,  p.  14-15 
(Roxburghe  Library,  1870),]  A  list  of  the  expenses  of  two  boys  at  Eton  College  in 
1560  has  been  preserved,  and  the  books  bought  by  them  were  "Lucian's  Dialogues, 
The  Kynges  Grammar,  Marcus  Tullius  Offic,  Fabulae  Aesopi,  Tullies  Atticum." 
[Retrospective  Review,  Vol.  II  (2d  Series),  p.  149.]  In  neither  of  these  cases,  however, 
should  we  exi)ect  to  find  Plautus  studied,  for  in  only  rare  instances  would  he  be 
read  by  students  before  entering  the  university. 

a  Nichols,  Progresses  of  Que^n  Elizabeth,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  177. 


CHAPTER  III 

EABLT   DEAMATIC   PIECES  INFLUENCED   BY   LATIN   COMEDY 

We  have  noticed  how  firmly  Plaufcus  and  Terence  had  estab- 
lished themselves  in  the  universities  and  how  familiarly  they 
were  known  to  the  scholars  of  England  by  the  end  of  the  third 
decade  of  the  sixteenth  century.  We  have  seen  that  in  1520 
**a  goodlie  comedie  of  Plautus" — probably  in  Latin — was 
played  before  the  King  and  the  French  hostages  at  Greenwich. 
One  of  the  early  issues  of  Caxton's  press  had  been  a  complete 
edition  of  Terence,  published  in  1497,*  and  in  the  same  year 
Pynson  printed  at  the  Oxford  press  what  was  probably  its  first 
issue — the  Andria.^  Before  1530  an  English  translation  of  this 
play  had  appeared.  It  would  have  been  strange  indeed  had 
this  interest  in  the  works  of  the  two  great  Latin  comedy-writers 
produced  no  appreciable  result  on  the  dramatic  attempts  of  the 
time,  especially  when  we  remember  that  the  dramatists  were 
almost  all  university  men.  And  at  this  point  it  is  necessary  to 
remember  that  in  noting  the  influence  of  Latin  comedy  on  our 
literature,  it  is  frequently  impossible  to  distinguish  between  the 
claims  of  Plautus  and  of  Terence  to  have  given  the  inspiration 
to  the  English  author.  The  stock  characters  of  the  parasite^ 
the  courtesan,  the  intriguing  slave,  etc.,  are  common  to  both, 
and  while  it  is  possible  to  distinguish  the  characteristics  of 
Plautus's  dramatis  perso?iae  from  those  of  Terence,  their  direct 
descendants  in  English  comedy  rarely  bear  the  distinctive 
earmarks  of  the  one  Latin  writer  or  of  the  other  with  sufficient 
accuracy  to  enable  us  to  trace  their  origin.  *  In  many  cases 
they  are  doubtless  reminiscences  of  corresponding  characters 
in  the  works  of  both  Plautus  and  Terence,  and  even,  at  times, 
as  we  shall  have  occasion  to  note,  minglings  of  two  of  tho 
persoiiae  of  Roman  comedy. 

One  of  the  first  English  dramatic  pieces  which  shows 
unmistakably  the  influence  of  Latin  comedy  is  the  interlude 

1  Lowndes,  Bibliographer's  Manual. 

aMadan,  Early  Oxford  Press,  p.  2  (Ox.  Hist.  Soc,  Vol.  XXIX,  1895). 

28 


INFLUENCE  OF  LATIN  COMEDY  29 

,  Calisto  and  Meliioea,^  published  about  1530,  the  colophon  of 
"which  reads :  Johes  Rastell  me  imprimi  fecit,  A  Spanish  play 
on  the  same  subject  had  been  written  much  earlier.  The  story 
— a  young  man  in  love  applying  to  a  procuress  to  enable  him  to 
get  possession  of  the  object  of  his  passion — carries  us  at  once 
into  the  world  of  Roman  comedy.  Calisto,  the  hero,  in  his 
unreasoning,  animal -like  love  for  Meliboea  deifies  his  mistress, 
and  is  willing  to  give  his  gold,  his  cloak — everything,  to  com- 
pass the  desired  end.  He  sits  down  and  bemoans  his  lot, 
handing  over  the  conduct  of  the  affair  almost  entirely  to  the 
"parasite,"  Sempronio,  who,  by  the  way,  is  rather  the  resource- 
ful slave  of  the  ancient  drama  than  a  parasite.  Unlike 
the  former,  however,  he  is  not  faithful  to  the  interests  of 
his  master.  Celestina,  the  procuress,  is  influenced  only  by 
mercenary  motives,  is  hypocritical,  and  has  no  redeeming 
feature.  Thus  far  the  almost  perfect  correspondence  to  the 
ancient  comedy  is  clearly  seen  and  in  suflBcient  detail.    Another 

,.  point  worthy  of  notice  is  the  significant  dream  of  Danio,  the 
father  of  Meliboea,  in  which,  under  symbolic  forms,  is  typified 
the  danger  in  which  his  daughter  stands.     With  this  comp.are, 

^  for  example,  the  dream  in  the  Rudens,  Act  III,  Sc.  i,  where 
Daemones  foresees  similar  peril  in  the  form  of  a  she-ape  try- 
ing to  rob  a  swallow's  nest.  Compare  also  the  dream  of 
Demipho  in  Mercator,  Act  II,  Sc.  i.  The  development  is  very 
slight;  there  is  no  attempt  at  poetic  justice,  and  no  concluding 

'  general  denoueme?it.  A  long  moral  homily  by  Danio  closes  the 
piece.* 

The  farces  Tliersites  and  Jack  Juggler  both  demand  atten- 
tion in  a  study  of  the  early  influence  of  Latin  comedy. 
Thersites^  was  written  in  1537,  the  year  of  the  birth  of 
Edward  VI.,  for  in  the  concluding  speech,  after  requesting 
prayers  for  the  king,  the  author  continues: 

Beseech  ye  also  that  God  may  save  his  queen, 

Lovely  Lady  Jane  and  the  prince  that  he  hath  sent  them  between. 


»  Dodsley's  Old  English  Plays,  ed.  Hazlitt,  Vol.  I,  p.  51. 

a  It  is  a  little  difficult  to  understand  why  Professor  Brandl  classes  this  play 
among  those  which  were  influenced  by  the  "Terence  imitations"  of  the  German 
Humanists.  There  is  no  trace  of  this  influence  in  the  play  itself;  and  we  have  no 
external  evidence  that  the  Neo-Latin  drama  of  Germany  had  as  yet  acquired  any 
vogue  in  England. 

s  Hazlitt's  Dodsley,  Vol.  I,  p.  389.  For  analysis  of  the  piece  see  Collier's  History 
of  Dramatic  Poetry,  Vol.  II,  399  ff. 


30  THE   BIRTHE   OF  HERCULES 

The  play  consists  of  a  number  of  loosely  connected  scenes, 
illustrative  of  the  character  of  the  hero,  a  ridiculous  braggart, 
and  it  has  sometimes  been  considered  as  an  outgrowth  of  the 
Miles  Gloriosus  of  Plautus.^  For  example  Jusserand,  speaking 
of  Gammer  GurtorC s  Needle^  says:  ''''La  donnee^  V esprit,  Us 
bouffonneries,  les  plaisanteries,  V observation  des  caracteres.  Us 
grossieretes,  Us  jeux  de  mots,  tout  id  comme  da^is  Tliersite  fait 
penser  a  U7i  Plaute  anglais  parlant  comme  U  Plaute  Romain 
pour  des  gens  peit  instruits  et  p>Bu  intelligents. '  '^  But  neither  in 
the  case  of  this  general  spirit,  nor  of  the  central  motif  is  it  prob- 
able that  we  are  dealing  with  a  case  of  genuine  Plautine  influence. 
The  braggart  is  unprovided  with  a  parasite,  which  omission  would 
have  rendered  Pyrgopolinices  helpless ;  nor  are  the  character- 
istics of  the  latter,  except  as  they  belong  to  the  genus,  notably 
present.  Moreover  the  conception  of  the  '*miles  gloriosus"  is 
an  old  one  in  English  literature,  and  with  more  or  less  variation 
from  original  types  there  has  been  a  long  line  of  successors  to 
Hunferth  in  B eotvulf  smd  "Kay  the  crabbed"  of  the  Arthurian 
story.  Especially  toward  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century  a 
very  great  number  of  plays  rang  the  changes  on  this  popular 
character.^  In  the  Mystery  Plays  the  role  of  Herod  was  invari- 
ably that  of  loud,  unrestrained  boasting,  coupled  with  a  great 
deal  of  comic  raging  about.  There  is  one  character  of  our 
ancient  national  drama,  however,  who  would  seem  to  be  quite 
clearly  the  prototype  of  Thersites — Watkyn,  in  the  play  of 
Candlemas  Day*'  in  the  Digby  Mysteries.  The  subject  of  the 
piece  is  the  Slaughter  of  the  Innocents.  Watkyn  comes  to 
Herod  and  beseeches  him  *'for  Mahound's  sake  make  me  a 
knight. ' '    He  is  deeply  impressed  with  a  sense  of  his  own  valor : 

Though  I  say  it  myself  I  am  a  man  of vAyght. 

Herod  refuses  his  request,  but  gives  him  permission  to  go 
forth  with  the  soldiers  to  the  work  of  slaughter.  Watkyn  is 
much  pleased  and  feels  that  he  shall  be  able  to  slay  the  children 
finely.     He  confesses,  however : 

But  yitt  I  drede  no  thyng  more  than  a  woman  with  a  rokke. 


I  Of.  Reinhardstoettner,  Plautus,  p.  658. 
8  Le  Thi&tre  en  Angleterre,  p.  182. 

8  V.  Graf,  Der  Miles  Gloriosus  im  Englischen  Drama,  etc.,  pp.  16,  20,  et  passim. 
*  Ancient  Mysteries  from  the  Digby  Manuscripts.     Printed  for  the  Abbotsford 
Club,  Edin.,  1835. 


INFLUENCE  OF  LATIN  COMEDY  31 

Herod  rebukes  and  sneers  at  him  for  this  admission,  and 
Watkyn  declares : 

And  ther  come  an  hundred  women  I  wole  not  ffleen, 

though  he  thinks  it  will  be  desirable  to  kill  the  children  if 
possible  when  the  mothers  are  not  present.  At  length,  having 
joined  Herod's  knights,  Watkyn  comes  to  the  work  of  slaugh- 
ter, and  addresses  the  mothers  in  very  pompous  language. 
After  a  time  the  women  centre  their  attention  on  him,  and  as 
soon  as  they  begin  to  make  demonstrations,  Watkyn  weakens. 
He  declares: 

My  heart  begynne  to  fayle  and  waxeth  feynt, 

but  he  threatens  his  enemies : 

But  ye  shall  lose  your  goods  as  traitors  atteynt. 

This  is  too  much  for  the  patience  of  the  already  sorely  tried 
women,  who  now  attack  Watkyn,  laying  on  with  their  distaffs, 
which  punishment  he  is  forced  to  endure  till  the  knights  come 
to  his  rescue.  At  this  point,  and  rather  abruptly,  Watkyn 's 
part  in  the  play  is  concluded. 

Thersites  is  an  even  more  farcical,  impossible  specimen  of 
the  same  type.  He  has  more  of  the  braggadocio  spirit  than 
Watkyn.  His  speeches  to  his  mother,  first  when  refusing  her 
request  that  he  give  up  his  bloody  intentions,  and  later  when 
he  forces  her  to  bless  him  and  relieve  Telemachus  of  his 
distress,  are  quite  in  the  vein  of  Watkyn 's  address  to  the 
Israelitish  mothers.  His  combat  with  a  snail  and  final  victory 
over  his  antagonist,  are,  of  course,  the  purest  farce.  As  soon 
as  a  soldier  appears  Thersites  runs  behind  his  mother,  crying : 

O  mother,  mother,  I  pray  thee  me  hide : 

Throw  something  over  me,  and  cover  me  every  side. 

At  the  second  appearance  of  the  soldier  the  stage-direction 
reads:  *'And  then  he  (the  soldier)  must  strike  at  him,  and 
Thersites  must  run  away,  and  leave  his  club  and  sword 
behind." 

The  spirit  of  childish  farcicalness  which  pervades  the  whole 
piece  is  a  development  of  the  elements  we  have  seen  in  Candle- 
mas Day.     The  frank  coarseness  and  unrestrained  fun,  the 
J  Skeltonic  doggerel  verses,  the  long  list  of  onomatopoeic  names 
contained  in  one  of  the  speeches  of  Thersites,  all  point  to  its 


32  THE   BIRTHE   OF   HERCULES 

vital  connection  with  the  national  drama.     Such  bewildering 
alliteration  as: 

Proud  Pierce  Pick-thank  that  picked  Parnel's  purse, 
Cut  will  the  cakes,  though  Kate  do  cry  and  curse, 

and  the  talking  of  disconnected  nonsense  are  common  in  Herod's 
speeches,  while  the  use  of  Latin  phrases — cf.  Thersites's 
condatur  mihi  galea — is  likewise  characteristic  of  the  most 
popular  character  of  the  Mysteries.  That  he  is  also  related  to 
the  Devil  of  the  old  plays,  Thersites  himself  announces  by  an 
**0h,  what  a  fellow  am  I."  It  is  difficult  to  appreciate  M.  Jus- 
serand's  reference  to  ^H^ observation  des  caracteres^^  in  Thersites, 
for  there  is  nothing  of  it  in  the  whole  play,  with  the  questionable 
exception  of  the  case  of  the  hero,  who  is  too  absurd  to  be 
real.  The  purely  and  confessedly  farcical  nature  of  the  whole 
ipso  facto  shuts  out  the  possibility  of  real  characterization. 
Professor  Brandl  considers  Thersites  as  inhaltlich  eine  Char- 
akterstudie  iiber  einen  Prahlhans  in  der  Art  des  Pyrgo- 
polyniTces}  Not  only  is  it  not  a  character-study  in  any  real 
sense,  for  the  fun  arises  generally  in  the  utter  absurdity  and 
impossibility  of  the  situation,  but  I  have  been  unable  to  find 
any  distinctly  Plautine  characteristics  in  the  piece,  and  in  spite 
of  its  classical  setting  I  think  we  should  regard  it  as  a  natural 
development  of  the  comic  elements  in  the  earlier  Mystery 
Plays.  It  is  not  difficult  to  conceive  of  the  author  of  Thersites 
as  a  man  who  had  never  read  a  single  Latin  comedy. 

The  farce  of  Jach  Juggler,  probably  written  during  the 
reign  of  Edward  VI.,  in  its  prologue  confesses  itself  a  very 
unambitious  adaptation  of  the  Amphitruo  of  Plautus.  The 
author  declares  that  *'it  is  a  thing  natural"  for  man  "to  have 
at  times  convenient  pastance,  mirth  and  pleasures,  so  they  be 
joined  with  honesty  and  kept  within  due  measures";  this 
was  the  belief  of  the  great  philosophers  of  ancient  days, 
including  Cicero  Tullius,  who  *' above  all  other  things  com- 
mendeth  the  old  comedy, 

.    .    .    .    And  in  this  manner  of  making  Plautus  did  excel, 


As  now  he  hath  done  this  matter  not  worth  an  oyster  shell. 
Except  percase  it  shall  fortune  to  make  you  laugh  well. 

»  Quellen  des  Weltlichen  Dramas  in  England  vor  Shakespeare,  p.  Ixxi. 


INFLUENCE  OF  LATIN  COMEDY  33 

And  for  that  purpose  only  this  maker  did  it  write, 
Taking  the  ground  thereof  out  of  Plautus's  first  comedy 
And  the  first  sentence  of  the  same."* 

There  is,  however,  little  similarity  between  Jack  Juggler 
and  the  Ampliitruo  considered  as  wholes.  The  former  may  be 
called  an  adaptation  of  a  portion  of  the  first  part  of  the  Latin 
comedy,  i.e.,  to  the  end  of  Act  II,  Sc.  i.  With  the  rest  of  the 
play,  the  central  situation,  or  the  denouement^  it  has  nothing  to 
do.  In  the  words  of  Professor  Child,  it  is  the  play  of  Ainphi- 
tryon  without  the  part  of  Amphitryon.^  A  brief  outline  of  the 
farce  will  make  this  clearer. 

Jack  Juggler  in  the  opening  speech  tells  us  that  he  wishes 
'  to  be  revenged  on  Jenkin  Careaway,  page  of  Master  Bongrace, 
**for  a  matter  that  fell  between  us  a-late."  The  master  is  to 
Bup  at  the  house  of  a  friend  and  has  commissioned  Jenkin  to 
** thither  fetch  my  dame  Mistress  Bongrace."  Jenkin  has  been 
loitering  and  playing  by  the  way  till  now  it  is  too  late  to 
execute  his  master's  commands.  He  concocts  an  improbable 
story  to  serve  as  an  excuse  with  his  mistress,  but  is  very 
apprehensive  of  meeting  her.  When  he  reaches  the  house  he 
is  accosted  by  Jack  Juggler,  disguised  so  as  to  appear  the 
image  of  Jenkin's  own  self,  and  a  scene  ensues  closely  modeled 
on  that  between  Mercury  and  Sosia  in  the  AmpJiitruo.  In 
general  it  is  simply  the  similarity  in  the  situations  which  occa- 
sions a  similarity  in  the  dialogue  of  the  two  plays ;  in  a  few 
instances,  however,  there  is  an  approach  to  literal  translation. 
Compare,  for  instance.  Jack's  address  to  his  fists: 

Jack.  Now  fists  me-thinketh  yesterday  seven  yers  past, 
That  four  men  asleep  at  my  feet  you  cast, 
And  this  same  day  you  did  no  manner  good, 
Nor  were  not  washen  in  warm  blood. 


Jenkin.  Four  hath  he  slain  and  now  well  I  see. 
That  it  must  be  my  chance  the  fifth  to  be.' 

with  Mercury's  corresponding  speech: 

Jam  pridem  videtur  factum  heri  quod  homines  quattuor 

In  soporem  collocastis  nudos.     Sosia.  Formido  male 

Ne  ego  hie  nomen  meum  commutem  et  Quintusfiam  e  Sosia.* 

» Jack  Juggler  (Dodsley's  Old  English  Plays,  ed.  Hazlitt),  Vol.  II,  pp.  111-112. 

»  V.  I'our  Old  Plays,  1848,  pp.  9-12. 

s  Jack  Juggler,  p.  122. 

*  Amphitruo,  I,  i,  v.  302-305. 


34  THE  BIRTHE   OF  HERCULES 

Jenkin's  begging  leave  of  Jack  Juggler  to  tell  the  truth 
without  being  beaten  for  so  doing,  likewise  follows  the  Amphi- 
truo  version  rather  closely ;  cf . : 

Jenkin.  But  sir,  might  I  be  bold  to  say  one  thing 
Without  any  blows  and  without  any  beating? 
Jack.  Truce  for  a  while ;  say  on  what  thee  lust. 
Jenkin.  May  a  man  to  your  honesty  by  your  word  trust? 

with  Sosia's  speech: 

So.  Ohsecro  utper  paeem  liceat  te  alloqui  ut  ne  vapulem. 
Me.  Immo  indutiae  parumper  fiant  siquid  vis  loqui. 
So.  Non  loquar  nisi  pace  facta,  quando  pugnis  plus  vales. 
Me.  I>ic[it6\  siquid  vis:  nonnocebo.    So.  Quae  fidei  credo f^ 

Jack  finally  gives  over  and  Jenkin  falls  to  the  mercy  of  his 
mistress,  who  berates  him  soundly  and  hardly  gives  him  an 
opportunity  of  propounding  his  theory  of  a  double  identity. 
This  scene  is  entirely  original.  A  few  lines  addressed  by  Jack 
to  the  audience  separates  it  from  that  in  which  Jenkin's  master 
is  indignant  with  his  page's  failure  to  do  what  he  was  com- 
manded, as  also  with  his  story  about  having  met  his  own 
double.  The  latter  is  very  similar  to  the  first  scene  of  Act  II 
of  the  Latin  play,  in  which  Amphitruo  upbraids  Sosia.  Bon- 
grace  and  his  wife  are  both  convinced  that  the  page  is 
responsible  for  the  miscarriage  of  their  arrangements,  but  no 
explanation  of  his  complete  bewilderment  is  given.  Then 
follows  a  long  speech,  in  which  Jenkin  bewails  his  lot,  and 
the  play  is  concluded  with  a  didactic  epilogue  setting  forth 
that 

Such  is  the  fashion  of  the  world  now-a-days 

That  the  simple  innocents  are  deluded. 


He  that  is  stronger  and  more  of  power  and  might, 

If  he  be  disposed  to  revenge  his  cause, 

Woll  soon  pick  a  quarrel,  be  it  wrong  or  right, 

To  the  inferior  and  weaker  for  a  couple  of  straws. 

Then  he  woll  put  him  to  the  worse,  either  by  false  injury. 

Or  by  some  craft  and  subtlety,  or  else  by  plain  tyranny. 

The  resemblance  to  Plautus  is  in  the  situation  only. 
Alcmena's  dignified,  frank  nature  finds  no  counterpart  in 
Mistress  Bongrace,  who  is  "a  very  cursed  shrew,  by  the  blessed 

»75td.,  I,  i,v.  388-392. 


rENuE 


INFLUENCE  QF  LATIN  COMEDY  35 

Trinity,  and  a  very  devil. '"^  one  is  quite  certain  at  first  that 
her  husband  has  designedly  prevented  her  going  to  sup  with 
him,  and  expresses  herself  vigorously  on  the  subject,  but  when 
the  husband  finally  arrives,  and  she  is  convinced  of  his  inno- 
cence, she  is  very  affectionate,  and  takes  credit  to  herself  for 
her  constant  faith  in  him.  Master  Bongrace,  whom  we  know 
very  slightly,  seems  a  rather  submissive  husband,  though 
Jenkin  informs  us  that 

My  master  himself  is  worse  than  she  [the  wife], 
If  he  once  thoroughly  angered  be. 

In  the  situation,  then,  and  in  some  verbal  similarities  con- 
sists the  whole  correspondence  between  the  two  plays.  Jack 
Juggler  can  present  only  very  slight  claims  to  be,  in  any  true 
sense  of  the  word,  a  comedy.  We  have  two  or  three  comic 
situations  which  have  a  rather  more  vital  connection  with  each 
other  than  the  purely  chronological  one,  but  of  real  story 
development  or  dramatic  structure  there  is  nothing.  The 
Plautine  situations  have  been  adapted  to  the  conditions  of  the 
native  environment,  but  the  author  has  made  no  attempt  what- 
ever to  produce  an  adaptation  of  the  Latin  comedy  in  its 
entirety,  or  as  a  developing  plotj  or  even  as  an  effectively  dis- 
posed mass  of  material.  The  comic  scenes  follow  each  other  to 
a  certain  point,  and  then  for  no  particular  reason  come  to  a 
conclusion.  The  dumbfounded  Careaway  is  left  still  believing 
that  he  has  been  assaulted  by  his  own  double,  and  his  master 
and  mistress  are  equally  far  from  a  rational  explanation.  The 
improbability  of  the  whole  play  is  much  greater  than  that  of 
the  Latin  comedy  owing  to  the  fact  that  we  are  asked  to  believe 
that  Jack  Juggler  was  able  to  disguise  himself  so  perfectly  as 
to  play  the  role  which  was  assigned  to  Mercury  in  the  Amphi- 
truo.  In  a  word,  the  influence  of  the  Latin  play  on  Jach  Juggler 
has  been  of  an  external  kind,  the  essentials  of  dramatic  con- 
ception and  structure  remaining  quite  unassimilated. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   DEVELOPMENT  OP  EARLY   ENGLISH   COMEDY 

Had  the  progress  of  English  dramatic  literature  remained 
quite  unaffected  by  the  study  and  imitation  of  Latin  plays 
there  can  be  no  question  that  eventually  there  would  have  been 
evolved  from  the  purely  native  elements  a  strong,  legiti- 
mate comedy.  The  seeds  for  such  a  growth  had  been  sown 
long  before,  and  even  the  Mysteries  furnish  us  examples  of 
such  purely  comic  figures  as  Mak,  the  sheep-stealer,  in  the 
Towneley  plays,  and  Watkyn  in  the  Digby  Mysteries.  When 
we  come  to  the  Moralities,  the  Vice  at  once  suggests  himself  in 
this  connection.  The  Moralities  represent  a  dramatic  advance 
chiefly  in  the  way  of  characterization ;  in  many  cases  little  more 
than  a  concrete  name  was  necessary  to  transform  an  abstraction 
into  a  typical,  but  withal,  a  real  character.  Even  while  these 
abstractions  were  preserved  they  were  placed  in  an  environment 
which  was  practically  that  of  the  audience  who  listened  to  the 
play.  From  the  picturing  of  type  characters  of  this  kind, 
placed  in  a  setting  which  represented  a  minimum  of  unified  or 
developing  plot,  the  transition  to  regular  comedy  was  through  a 
double  medium — ^that  of  the  interlude  and  of  the  farce.  When 
Rastell,  in  1533,  printed  several  of  the  interludes  of  John  Hey- 
wood,  genuine  English  comedy  was  almost  an  accomplished  fact. 
In  these  pieces  characterization  and  comic  situation  were  united 
in  a  highly  diverting  series  of  scenes,  though  there  was  usually 
a  total  lack  of  dramatic  quality,  as,  for  example,  in  the  case  of 
Tlie  Four  P''s.  The  service  performed  by  the  farce  was  com- 
plementary to  that  of  the  interlude.  In  the  latter  the  fun 
arose  in  great  measure  as  an  outgrowth  of  the  characters  of  the 
dramatis  personae^  who  in  turn  created  comic  situations:  in 
the  farce,  e.g.,  Thersites  or  Jach  Juggler,  the  utterly  ridiculous 
character  of  the  whole  practically  makes  characterization  impos- 
sible, while  in  the  inherent  farcicalness  of  the  situation  consist 
the  laughter-provoking  elements.  Illustrations  of  this  point 
readily  suggest  themselves,  e.g.,  Thersites's  combat  with  the 

36 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  EARLY  ENGLISH  COMEDY   37 

snail,  or  Jenkin  Careaway's  perplexity  while  undergoing  'a 
cudgeling  from  his  supposed  double,  in  both  of  which  cases 
we  have  the  lack  of  correspondence  between  the  actual  and 
the  imagined  which  is  necessary  to  comedy,  the  real  character 
of  the  personae  remaining  in  the  background. 

The  farce  and  the  interlude  taken  together,  then,  almost 
provide  the  necessary  bridging  over  of  the  gulf  between  the 
Moralities  and  comedy  proper,  only  a  developing  unified  plot 
being  still  necessary.  That  the  native  drama  would  have 
eventually  arrived  at  this  independently  there  can  be  no  reason- 
able doubt  when  we  consider  how  logically  and  progressively  it 
had  previously  developed  in  the  direction  of  true  comedy. 
But  an  external  influence  was  brought  to  bear  upon  it  which 
shortened  the  length  of  this  transition  period  very  materially, 
viz.,  the  influence  of  the  comedies  of  Plautus  and  Terence. 

The  plot  structure  of  Greek  drama  underwent  the  most 
radical  modifications  in  the  hands  of  Eoman  comedy-writers, 
and  in  the  greater  complexity  of  the  Latin  play  the  source 
from  which  its  elements  have  been  derived  is  often  almost 
entirely  obscured.  But  the  changes  were  not  made  inde- 
pendently of  artistic  considerations.  Nowhere  does  the 
remarkable  genius  of  Plautus  show  itself  more  clearly  than  in 
his  effective  disposition  of  material :  he  develops  his  story  with 
a  perfect  though  probably  unconscious  fidelity  to  artistic  law. 
The  claim  has  been  made  for  the  Captivi  that  it  is  the  best 
constructed  drama  in  existence.  But  that  which  is  of  special 
interest  to  us  here  is  to  note  the  many  similarities  between  the 
Latin  drama  and  that  of  England  after  the  latter  had  come 
under  the  influence  of  the  works  of  Plautus  and  Terence.  One 
of  the  chief  differences  between  a  work  like  Ralph  Roister 
Doister  on  the  one  hand,  and  Jach  Juggler  and  most  of  Hey- 
wood's  pieces  on  the  other,  is  this;  the  latter  develop  an 
absurd  situation  as  far  as  possible,  the  climax  coinciding  with 
the  conclusion  of  the  play ;  in  the  former  we  have  an  upward 
movement  toward  a  climax,  followed  by  the  falling  movement 
ending  with  the  ** catastrophe."  That  this  advance  was  owing 
to  the  study  of  Latin  models  we  can  not  doubt. 

Many  other  features  of  the  work  of  Plautus  and  Terence, 
some  of  a  merely  accessory  character,  some  of  the  very  essence 
of  Latin  dramatic  art,  were  gradually  incorporated  by  English 
comedy.     The  prologues  to  Plautus 's  plays — most  of  them  date 


38  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

from  a  period  subsequent  to  his  death — not  assigned  to  any 
particular  character,  and  combining,  as  they  do,  the  double 
function  of  explanation  and  apology,  are  copied  closely  by 
Elizabethan  writers.  Plautus's  predilection  for  a  great  num- 
'  ber  of  scenes  is  preserved  in  early  English  comedy,  and  by  a 
natural  development  has  taken  on  the  additional  character- 
istic of  frequent  change  of  place  —  a  characteristic  which 
has  become  the  despair  of  the  modem  stage  manager.  The 
feature  of  underplots,  bearing  a  more  or  less  vital  relation 
to  the  main  plot  of  the  play,  has  persisted.  The  frequent  pre- 
ponderance of  the  poetical  over  the  dramatic,  the  introduction 
of  purely  lyrical  passages,  the  turning  to  dramatic  account  of 
the  change  of  metres,  and  in  a  less  formal  way,  the  spontaneous 
flow  of  language,  the  strong  exuberant  vitality,  the  sense  of  the 
deep  joy  of  living,  are  not  more  characteristic  of  the  Plautine 
than  of  the  Elizabethan  drama.  To  say  that  the  English 
drama  derived  these  characteristics  entirely  from  Latin  comedy 
would  be  manifestly  unfair,  and  with  regard  to  diction  and 
informing  spirit  it  would  be  very  easy  to  overestimate  the 
importance  of  the  influence.  But  on  the  side  of  form  the 
English  dramatists  went  to  school  to  Plautus  and  Terence,  and 
it  was  in  this  school  that  they  gained  almost  their  entire  educa- 
tion in  the  matter  of  dramatic  structure. 

It  is  not  to  be  imagined  that  English  drama  previous  to 
Ralph  Roister  Doister  had  been  absolutely  untouched  in  its 
development  by  the  models  of  Latin  drama.  Indeed  it  is  diflB- 
cult  to  believe  that  the  untrammeled  flow  and  sententious 
vigor  of  Heywood's  dialogue  owes  nothing  to  the  comedy  of 
Plautus.  But  it  was  on  the  constructive  side  that  this  influ- 
ence now  became  most  pronounced  and  most  beneficial,  and  it 
was  derived  to  comedy  through  three  main  channels : 

1.  The  study  of  Plautus  and  Terence  in  the  schools. 

2.  The  writing  and  acting  in  the  schools  of  Latin  plays  and 
English  plays  which  were  modeled  on  Latin  comedy. 

3.  The  vogue  in  England  of  the  Neo-Latin  drama  of  the 
German  Humanists. 

The  first  of  these  points  has  been  already  dealt  with.  The 
study  of  Terence  had  never  died  out  in  the  schools ;  Plautus  was 
among  the  first  of  the  Latin  classics  to  be  reestablished  in  the  seat 
1  of  honor  at  the  time  of  the  early  Renaissance  of  learning.  *'A 
igoodlie  comedie  of  Plautus"  was  staged  at  Greenwich  in  1520, 
I 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  EARLY  ENGLISH  COMEDY   39 

and  before  1530  the  Andria  of  Terence  had  been  translated^ 
and  almost  certainly  acted.''  We  have  also  seen  how  commonly 
the  Latin  comedy-writers  were  quoted  by  scholars  in  the  first 
half  of  the  century,  and  that  they  were  among  the  favorite 
authors  of  educated  men  there  is  abundant  evidence. 

The  custom  of  giving  plays  at  the  great  public  schools  and 
universities  was  a  very  old  one,  though  definite  information  is 
almost  entirely  lacking  until  the  performance  of  the  Dido  of 
Kightwise  between  1522  and  1532.^  We  also  know  that  in 
1525  a  play  was  presented  by  the  students  of  Eton  College.* 
The  practice  continued  uninterruptedly  till  the  time  of  the 
Commonwealth,  and,  together  with  disputations,  formed  the 
chief  method  of  entertaining  royalty  at  the  universities. 
Elizabeth  seems  to  have  been  particularly  fond  of  these  rep- 
resentations,^ while  the  erudite  James  I.  held  them  in  slight 
esteem.  Several  names  have  come  down  to  us  which  are  inti- 
mately associated  with  the  early  history  of  the  school  drama. 
Between  1520  and  1532  were  produced  the  Mundus  Flumbevs 
and  the  Microcosmus  of  Thomas  Artour  of  Cambridge,  and  in 
1535  the  Fiscator  or  the  Fisher  Caught  of  John  Hoker  of 
Oxford.  In  1546  John  Christopherson,  **a  very  grave  and 
learned  divine,"  wrote  his  tragedy  of  Jephtha  as  a  contribution 
to  the  Christmas  festivities  at  Cambridge.  Better  known,  per- 
haps, was  Ralph  Radcliffe,  who,  having  obtained  a  grant  of  the 
house  of  Carmelites  at  Hitchin,  opened  a  school  and  fitted  up 
one  room  for  the  purpose  of  enabling  his  pupils  to  give  dra- 
matic performances.  He  was  the  author  of  ten  tragedies  and 
comedies,  none  of  which  seem  to  have  been  printed.*  The 
names  of  these  plays,  together  with  the  description  of  them 
given  us  by  Bale — spectacula  simul  jucunda  et  honesta — make 
probable  the  inference  that  Radcliffe  had  come  under  the 
influence  of  the  Christian  drama  of  Germany.'     Of  a  similar 

1  The  Andria  is  cited  three  times  by  Leonard  Cox  in  his  The  Arte  or  Crafte  of 
Rheihoryke,  v.  reprint  "English  Studies,"  Univ.  of  Chicago,  ed.  F.  I.  Carpenter,  pp. 
55,  76,  77. 

9  The  language  of  the  prologue  and  the  epilogue  justify  this  conclusion. 

>  Latin  plays  in  University  of  Cambridge,  Retrospective  Review,  Vol.  XII,  p.  7. 

*  H.  C.  Maxwell  Lyte,  A  History  of  Eton  College,  p.  115,  quotes  from  Eton  Audit 
Book,  1525-26,  "Pro  expensis  circa  omamenta  ad  duos  lusus  in  aula  tempore  natalis 
Domini  Xs." 

6  See  accounts  of  her  visit  to  Oxford  in  156C  and  1592  in  Elizabethan  Oxford,  ed. 
C.  Plummer  (Ox.  Hist.  Soc,  1886).  For  her  visit  to  Cambridge  in  1564  see  Nichols's 
Progresses  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  177. 

«  For  list  of  Radcliffe's  works,  v.  Cooper's  Athenae  Cantabrigienees,  Vol.  I,  p.  204. 

»  V.  next  chapter. 


40  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

character  was  the  work  of  Nicholas  Grimalde/  who  lectured  at 
Christ  Church  on  Terence,  Cicero,  Horace,  and  Xenophon. 
In  1543  he  published  at  Cologne  his  Christus  Redivivus^  and 
in  1548  his  Archiproplieta  sive  Johannes  Baptista^  this  last 
work  entitling  him,  in  Professor  Herford's  opinion,  to  a  "dis- 
tinguished position  in  the  history  of  the  English  drama  as  the 
author  of  the  first  extant  tragedy."^ 

The  last  of  these  writers  of  school  plays  whom  we  shall 
consider  is  for  our  purpose  by  iar  the  most  important — Nich- 
olas Udall,*  successively  master  of  Eton  and  Westminster 
schools.  He  was  appointed  to  the  head-mastership  of  Eton  in 
1534,  and  remained  in  this  position  for  nearly  eight  years. 
The  students  at  this  school  ordinarily  gave  a  Latin  play  once  a 
year.®  The  representation  took  place  during  the  Christmas 
holidays,  and  before  a  public  audience,  and  English  plays 
were  permitted  provided  any  could  be  found  of  sufficient 
excellence.*  A  year  before  entering  on  his  duties  at  Eton 
Udall  had  published  his  Floures  for  Latine  spekynge  selected 
and  gathered  oute  of  Terence  and  the  same  translated  into 
English.  Other  editions  of  this  work — which  included  the  first 
three  comedies  of  Terence — appeared  in  1538,  1544,  and  1560, 
and  an  enlarged  edition  by  John  Higgins  was  printed  in  1575 
and  1581.  We  know  that  Udall  wrote  plures  comoediae  and  a 
tragedy  de  Papatu^  and  his  play  Ezechias^m  English,  was 
performed  before  Queen  Elizabeth  at  Cambridge  in  1564.  The 
only  extant  play  by  Udall  is  that  to  which  is  usually  accorded 
the  honor  of  being  the  first  English  comedy — Ralph  Roister 
Doister,  and  it  is  probable  that  it  was  written  for  the  boys  of 
Eton  school  and  during  the  author's  head-mastership,  i.e., 
before  1541.* 


» V.  Cooi)er's  Athenae  Cantahrigienses,  p.  230. 

«  Reprinted  in  publications  of  Modern  Language  Association,  Vol.  XIV. 

•  The  Literary  Belations  of  England  and  Germany  in  the  Sixteenth  Century,  p.  113. 

•  The  best  accounts  of  the  life  of  Udall  are  that  by  Sidney  Lee  in  the  Dictionary 
cf  National  Biography,  and  that  by  William  Durrant  Cooper,  prefixed  to  the  Old 
Shakespeare  Society's  edition  of  Ralph  Roister  Doister. 

» I  have  not  been  able  to  consult  the  Eton  Consuetudinary,  but  Sidney  Lee  in  his 
life  of  Udall  (ZWc.  Nat.  Biog.),  states  that  the  plays  thus  given  were  those  of  Terence 
and  Plautus. 

•  Interdum  etiam  exhibet  Anglico  sermone  contextas  fabulas  si  quae  habeant  acu- 
men et  leporem.  From  the  ancient  Consuetudinary  of  Eton  school,  quoted  by 
Collier,  II,  pp.  445-46,  and  Wharton,  III,  p.  308. 

'  Warton,  III,  308,  quoting  from  Royal  MS.,  18  A,  liiv. 

8  Professor  Hales  maintains  that  the  play  was  not  written  before  1551,  but  his 
argument  is  not  convincing.    V.  Eng.  Stu.,  Vol.  XV. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  EARLY  ENGLISH  COMEDY   41 

It  is  a  rather  significant  fact  in  the  history  of  the  develop- 
ment of  English  drama  that  our  first  extant  comedy  is  based 
upon  one  of  the  plays  of  Plautus — ^the  Miles  Gloriosus,  Ralph 
Roister  Doister  is  so  well  known  that  it  is  unnecessary  to  give 
a  sketch  of  the  plot  in  this  connection.  The  prologue  opens 
with  a  defence  of  honest  mirth,  and  on  these  lines  the  similar 
passage  in  the  prologue  of  Jack  Juggler  would  seem  to  be 
modeled,  if  indeed  it  is  certainly  the  later  of  the  two  produc- 
tions. Another  similarity  consists  in  their  both  referring  to 
Plautus  as  having  excelled  in  this  manner  of  making.  The 
prologue  of  Ralph  Roister  Doister  says : 

The  wyse  poets  long  time  heretofore 

Under  meiTie  comedies  secretes  did  declare, 

Wherein  was  contained  very  vertuous  lore, 

With  mysteries  and  forewarnings  very  rare. 

Suche  to  write  neether  Plautus  nor  Terence  dyd  spare, 

Whiche  among  the  learned  at  this  day  beares  the  bell : 

These  with  such  other  therein  dyd  excell. 

The  plot  of  the  comedy  is,  as  far  as  we  know,  entirely 
original  with  the  author,  and  although  two  of  the  characters — 
Ralph,  the  vainglorious  coward,  and  Matthew  Merrygreke,  the 
astute  parasite — are  taken  from  the  Miles  Gloriosus,  the  whole 
atmosphere  and  setting  of  the  play  is  pronouncedly  English. 
Ralph  is  clearly  of  the  Pyrgopolinices  type.  His  chief  charac- 
teristics are  summed  up  for  us  by  the  parasite : 

All  the  day  long  is  he  facing  and  craking 

Of  his  great  actes  in  fighting  and  f raymaking ; 

But,  when  Roister  Doister  is  put  to  his  proofe, 

To  keepe  the  Queenes  peace  is  more  for  his  behoofe. 

If  any  woman  smyle  or  cast  on  hym  an  eye, 

Up  is  he  to  the  harde  eares  in  love  by-and-by, 

And  in  all  the  hotte  haste  must  she  be  hys  wife, 

Else  farewell  hys  good  days,  and  farewell  his  life  !^ 

Like  his  immortal  prototype  he  has  an  oppressive  sense  of 
liis  own  worth,  and  half  despairingly  he  asks  Matthew: 

Why  did  God  make  me  suche  a  goodly  person? 

In  the  true  ancient  fashion  he  is  dependent  upon  his  para- 
site at  every  moment.  The  latter,  like  Artotrogus  of  the  Miles 
Oloriosus,  and,  indeed,  like  all  others  of  the  type  in  Plautus, 

»  Act  I,  Sc.  i,  11.  3643  (Manly,  The  Pre-Shaksperean  Drama,  Vol.  II). 


42  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

is  chiefly  interested  in  providing  himself  with  meat  and  drink 
at  the  expense  of  some  patron  who  is  willing  to  be  paid  in. 
flattery.  Like  Artotrogus,  too,  he  persuades  his  victim  that 
he  is  remarkable  chiefly  in  two  ways — for  his  unparalleled  per- 
sonal bravery,  and  for  his  attractiveness  in  the  eyes  of  women. 
Merrygreke,  however,  is  not  a  reproduction  of  Artotrogus  as 
Koister  Doister  is  of  Pyrgopolinices.  He  not  only  flatters  but 
at  times  flouts  the  braggart  wooer ;  he  is  even  more  interested 
in  developing  the  comic  possibilities  of  the  situation  than  in 
extracting  personal  gain  from  the  dupe  whom  he  has  in  his 
toils.  It  is  in  this  role  of  a  mirth-loving  schemer,  in  which  he 
appears  the  incarnation  of  the  spirit  of  fun,  that  we  recognize 
his  relationship  to  the  older  Vice.  In  spite  of  what  at  first  sight 
might  appear  a  somewhat  incongruous  combination  we  have 
a  very  real  and  very  entertaining  character  in  Merrygreke. 
As  for  the  other  dramatis  personae  it  is  only  necessary  to 
notice  that  they  are  clearly  differentiated,  genuine  characters 
drawn  from  contemporary  English  life.  The  movement  of  the 
play  never  flags,  the  conversation  flows  briskly  and  spiritedly, 
and  the  interest  in  the  story  is  preserved  to  the  very  close. 
But  perhaps  in  no  particular  is  a  greater  advance  over  the  work 
of  earlier  English  play-writers  to  be  noticed  than  in  the  matter 
of  dramatic  technique.  There  are  five  acts,  subdivided  into- 
scenes,  and  the  disposition  and  inter-relating  of  the  details  of 
the  plot  are  of  a  very  skillful  kind.  Act  I  introduces  us  to 
almost  all  the  characters,  and  puts  us  in  touch  with  the 
general  situation.  Kalph,  in  love  with  the  widow  Dame  Cus- 
tance,  is  chiefly  concerned  regarding  a  rival  of  whom  he  has 
heard  —  a  merchant  named  Gawin  Goodluck.  Merrygreke 
consoles  him  by  the  assurance  that  his  personal  charms  are 
irresistible.  Then  we  have  some  scenes  between  Ralph  and 
his  servants  on  the  one  side,  and  the  servants  of  Dame  Custance 
on  the  other,  and  Madge  Mumblecrust  finally  delivers  to  her 
mistress  a  letter  from  Ralph.  The  second  act  is  rather  short 
and  relates  the  difficulties  attendant  on  the  efforts  of  one  of 
Ralph's  servants  to  deliver  a  ring  and  a  token  to  Dame 
Custance  from  his  master.  But  at  length,  introducing  himself 
to  the  servants  of  the  widow  as  a  messenger  from  their  mistress's 
future  husband,  he  easily  persuades  them  to  deliver  the  knick- 
knacks,  and  they  in  turn  are  soundly  rated  by  the  lady  for 
having  such  commerce  with   a  person  of  whom  they  know 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  EARLY  ENGLISH  COMEDY   43 

nothing.  This  act  advances  the  course  of  the  "plot  but  little. 
In  Act  III  Merrygreke  learns  from  Dame  Custance  that  she  is 
engaged  to  Gawin  Goodluck,  and  that  she  |  despises  Ealph 
Eoister  Doister,  whose  letter  she  has  not  even  read.  The 
parasite  dutifully  reports  this  to  his  master,  who  is  so 
ohagrined  that  he  declares  he  will  die  forthwith ;  Merrygreke 
takes  his  statement  literally  for  the  sake  of  the  promised  fun, 
and  calls  in  servants  to  pray  **and  for  hym  ring  a  peale." 
After  a  time  Ealph  recovers,  and  on  Merrygreke's  advice  goes 
to  serenade  the  widow,  who  laughs  him  to  scorn.  She  pro- 
duces the  letter  which  she  had  received,  and  Merrygreke  reads 
it  in  such  a  way  that  by  altering  the  punctuation  he  gives  to  it 
a  meaning  quite  contrary  to  that  which  it  was  intended  to 
convey.  Ealph  thereupon  denies  the  authorship,  and  when 
Dame  Custance  takes  her  leave  he  vows  to  be  revenged  on  the 
scrivener  whom  he  had  employed.  The  latter,  however,  reads 
his  composition  in  such  a  way  that  the  baffled  Ealph  has  to 
admit  its  excellence. 

The  fourth  act  is  largely  made  up  of  pure  farce.  Sim 
Suresby,  the  servant  of  Gawin  Goodluck,  has  been  sent  by  his 
master  to  salute  Dame  Custance.  Just  at  this  juncture  Ealph 
and  Merrygreke  arrive,  the  former  talking  loudly  of  arms  and 
preparations  for  battle,  and  addressing  Custance  as  **sweete 
wife,"  the  effect  of  which  is  that  Sim  leaves  hurriedly  to 
inform  his  master  of  the  new  state  of  affairs.  Custance  is  so 
enraged  that  she  and  her  maids,  with  the  help  of  Tristram 
Trusty,  a  neighbor,  attack  Eoister  Doister  and  his  men.  A 
pitched  battle  ensues,  kitchen  utensils  being  the  chief  weapons, 
and  Ealph  is  soundly  cudgeled  by  Custance,  who  is  aided  by 
the  deceitful  parasite. 

In  the  fifth  act  Gawin  Goodluck 's  mistaken  ideas  regarding 
his  affianced  are  dispelled,  and  the  play  concludes  happily  for 
everyone,  Ealph  being  invited  to  the  wedding  supper. 

This  short  sketch  will  serve  to  show  how  much  Udall  had 
learned  regarding  the  framework  of  a  play.  Ralph  Roister 
Doister  is  one  of  the  first  English  dramas,  the  material  of 
which  is  digested  in  five  acts,  subdivided  into  scenes.  But 
more  than  this  the  relation  of  successive  acts  to  one  another  is 
fairly  effective.  The  first  act  performs  exactly  the  service 
which  a  first  act  should  perform.  The  chief  flaw  is  perhaps  to 
be  found  in  the  lack  of  plot-progress  in  Act  II,  but  the  com- 


44  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

plications  which  arise  in  the  course  of  Ealph's  wooing  are  fully- 
developed  by  the  time  we  reach  the  end  of  the  third  act.  With 
the  beginning  of  the  fourth  act  Ealph's  chances  decline  rapidly, 
but  a  complication  arises  in  the  development  of  the  sub-theme 
to  which  the  last  two  acts  are  devoted — the  realization  of 
Dame  Custance's  hopes  of  happiness.  This  complication  is 
resolved  in  Act  V,  and  the  play  concludes  merrily  for  all  the 
characters.  Whether  we  consider  the  comedy  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  genuineness  and  number  of  the  characters,  the 
spirited  nature  of  the  dialogue,  or  the  excellence  of  its  con- 
structive arrangement,  we  find  in  Ralph  Roister  Doister  an 
artistic  product  separated  by  a  long  distance  from  the  best  of  its 
predecessors  in  English  literature,  and  that  Udall  had  read  his 
Plautus  and  Terence  to  good  effect  we  need  no  other  proof 
than  the  single  specimen  of  his  ^^plures  comoediae^'*  which  has 
survived  to  modern  times.  ^ 

The  third  source  from  which  Latin  comedy  was  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  development  of  the  English  drama,  viz.,  through 
the  Neo-Latin  plays  of  the  German  Humanists,  we  shall  con- 
sider in  the  next  chapter. 

»An  interesting  reference  to  school  plays  is  contained  in  a  quotation  from 
Gulielmus  Loonus's  Braunii  Civitates  (1575),  to  the  effect, that  even  Plautus,  Terence, 
or  Seneca,  if  they  could  have  witnessed  them,  would  have  been  delighted  and  aston- 
ished at  the  grace  and  elegance  displayed  hy  the  students  at  these  representations. 
V.  Retrospective  Review,  Vol.  XII,  p.  20,  Latin  Plays  in  University  of  Cambridge, 
The  models  of  the  plays  referred  to  ate  clearly  enough  indicated. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  INFLUENCE   PROM   GERMANY 

That  the  literary  relations  of  England  and  Germany  became 
more  intimate  during  the  sixteenth  century  than  they  had  ever 
been  before  is  not  strange.  In  1509  Pynson  had  published 
Alexander  Barclay's  translation  of  Sebastian  Brandt's  Narren- 
schiff — a  work  which  had  already  won  a  continental  reputation, 
and  the  connection  thus  established  continued  to  grow  more 
intimate.  But  to  the  Reformation  was  due  primarily  the  closer 
intimacy  which  came  to  exist  between  the  two  nations  at  this 
period.  From  Germany  had  come  the  initial  impulse  to  the 
great  religious  movement  which  was  working  itself  out  in 
Europe,  and  before  Englishmen  had  become  active  partisans  in 
the  struggle  their  eyes  had  been  riveted  on  the  world-stirring 
scenes  which  were  taking  place  in  the  theatre  of  which 
Germany  was  the  stage.  Among  the  early  English  dramatic 
pieces  written  with  a  partisan  purpose  was  "the  most  goodliest 
disguising  or  interlude  made  in  Latin  and  French,"  which  was 
presented  before  the  king  and  the  French  ambassadors  at  Green- 
wich in  1527.  In  this  Latin  Morality,  which  was  acted  by  the 
children  of  St.  Paul's  school  under  the  direction  of  John 
Rightwise,  then  head-master,  Luther  and  his  wife  were  char- 
acters, and  the  purpose  of  the  play  was  to  cast  ridicule  on 
them  and  on  the  principles  of  the  Reformers.^ 

The  necessary  contact  had  thus  been  established,  and  this 
made  it  possible  that  the  one  form  of  literary  activity  which  then 
flourished  in  Germany — the  Latin  drama^ — might  be  brought  to 
the  notice  of  Englishmen.  Its  history  on  continental  soil  had 
been  very  different  from  that  of  the  English  species.  In  the  case 
.  of  the  latter  we  have  an  artificial,  amorphous  product,  as  devoid 
of  all  real  interest  or  vitality  as  of  progressiveness  or  develop- 
ment in  any  direction.     Its  history  is  that  of  the  accumulation 

1  Collier,  Hist.  Ancient  Eng.  Poet.,  1, 105  ff. 

«  Most  of  the  material  on  this  subject  I  have  drawn  from  Professor  Herford's 
Literary  Relations  of  England  and  Germany  in  the  Sixteenth  Century. 

45 


46  THE  BIRTHE   OF  HERCULES 

of  a  heterogeneous  mass  of  materials  which  never  attained  to 
the  unity  of  an  organic  whole.      The  Archipropheta^  one  of 
its  earliest  products,   is   usually  considered   its   most  credit- 
able.    But  in  Germany  the  case  was  different.     The  writing 
of  Latin  plays  on  the  model  of  those  of  Plautus  and  Terence 
had  begun  much  earlier  than  in  England,  and  from  the  first 
these  productions  allied  themselves  to  a  greater  or  less  extent 
with  contemporary  German  life.     Plays  written  in  Latin  were 
translated  into  German  and  vice  versa^  both  versions  being 
given  on  the  stage,  sometimes  one  immediately  after  the  other. 
;!From  a  structural  point  of  view  the  earliest  of  these  produc- 
tions were  indebted  but  slightly  to  Eoman   comedy:    it  was 
rather  the  atmosphere  of  the  Eoman  theatre  and  the  methods 
of  literary  expression  which  were  taken  over.     At  Heidelberg 
as  early  as  1470  Jacob  Wimpheling  produced  his  StylpJio,  and 
in  1498  a  much  more  important  play  appeared — the  Hennd^  of 
Keuchlin.     In  1501  a  new  edition  appeared  of  the  tenth  cen- 
tury adaptation  of  Terence — the  work  of  the  nun  of  Gander- 
sheim,  and  six  years  later  her  method  was  emulated  in  the 
Dorothea  of  Ohilianus.    In  the  Henno  and  the  Dorothea  we  have 
the  prototypes  of  all  the  succeeding  members  of  two  large  classes 
of  Latin  plays  in  Germany.     The  first — the  "Modem  Terence" 
class — adapts  a  modern  farce  to  the  artistic  form  and  style 
of  an  ancient  comedy.     To  quote  Professor  Herford,  "certain 
characters  and  incidents  have  a  Terentian  or  Plautine  colour- 
ing,*'   and  the    chief    characteristics    of   the    play  are  "its 
admirably   clear  and    compact    structure,"   its    "success  in 
satisfying  the  more  mechanical  canons  of  art,  skill  of  structure, 
unity,  singleness  of  plot."  The  second  type,  which  has  given 
the  name  of  the  "Christian  Terence"  to  a  large  class  of  allied 
plays,  is  of  more  immediate  interest  to  us  here.     It  sought 
to  reproduce  essentially  the  atmosphere  and  situations  of  Latin 
comedy,  at  the  same  time  eliminating  that  which  was  morally 
objectionable.      But  it   did  more  than    this.      In  its  more 
developed  form  of  the  Biblical  drama,  which  incorporated  the 
main  characteristics  of  the  drama  of  Eeuchlin,  we  have  the 
adaptation  of  Biblical  incidents  to  the  ancient  dramatic  forms, 
many  of  the  stock  characters  and  situations  of  Latin  comedy 
being  at  the  same  time  preserved.     The  chief  development  of 

*  For  analysis  see  Herford,  op.  cit.,  p.  81+. 


THE  INFLUENCE  FROM  GERMANY  47 

this  school  came  about  in  Holland,  and  was  the  work  of  three 
men,  all  schoolmasters — Gnapheus,  Macropedius,  and  Crocus. 
Their  play-writing  was  an  outcome  of  their  pedagogic  endeavors, 
and  represented  individual  solutions  of  one  great  problem,  "how, 
namely,  to  steep  a  boy's  mind  in  the  admirable  colloquial 
Latin  of  Terence  and  Plautus  without  introducing  him  prema- 
turely to  a  world  of  lenones  and  meretrices.''*  Their  purpose 
Professor  Herford  sums  up  by  denominating  them  *'the  ardent 
Humanists,  who  vied  with  the  old  comic  poets,  aspired  to  be 
the  Terences  or  Plautuses  of  the  age,  and  to  reproduce  as  far 
as  was  consistent  with  a  Biblical  subject  and  a  pious  intention, 
the  art,  the  colouring,  the  society,  the  atmosphere  of  Plautua 
and  Terence."^ 

It  would  be  aside  from  our  purpose  at  this  point  to  consider 
in  any  detail  the  enthusiasm  which  spread  throughout  Germany 
for  this  style  of  play — the  representing  of  Biblical  stories  in 
classical  forms.  I  shall  notice  briefly  only  a  few  of  those  plays, 
which  we  know  to  have  exercised  a  direct  influence  in  England. 
Some  of  the  favorite  subjects  were  those  connected  with  the 
names  of  Joseph,  Judith,  Susanna,  Zorobabel,  Judas,  Haman, 
etc.  More  popular  than  any  of  these,  however,  was  the  story 
of  the  Prodigal  Son,  which  underwent  frequent  treatment,  and 
which  was  soon  surrounded  by  a  whole  brood  of  plays  on 
themes  which  were  either  related  to  the  Biblical  story,  or  had 
been  adapted  to  it.  The  most  famous  of  these  pieces  was  the 
Acolastus  of  Gnapheus,  alias  FuUonius,  the  author  being  a  self- 
confessed  admirer  of  Plautus  and  Terence ;  the  story  of  the  play 
is  that  of  the  Prodigal  Son.  The  various  details  of  the  Biblical 
story  have  been  sometimes  elaborated,  sometimes  given  very  sum- 
marily, the  chief  elaboration  being  in  that  part  which  deals  with 
the  Prodigal's  life  as  a  prodigal,  where  we  have  a  number  of 
scenes  "painted  with  the  genial  vigor  of  Plautus,  and  a  fearless 
use  of  his  abundant  material."  The  play  was  written  in  1529, 
and  by  1540  an  English  translation — somewhat  in  the  form  of  a 
school  exercise-book — had  appeared  from  the  pen  of  John 
Palsgrave.  Another  important  work  of  this  class,  which  was 
also  translated  into  English,  was  the  Pammachius  of  Kirchmayer. 
The  play  appeared  in  1538,  and  was  shortly  followed  by  the 
Pyrgopolinices  of  the  same  author,  in  which  a  German  prince 

»  Op.  cit,.  p.  85. 


48  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

is  pictured  as  a  modern  "miles  gloriosus."  John  Bale,  who  on 
Cromwell's  downfall,  had  found  himself  exposed  to  the  anger 
of  his  religious  enemies,  and  had  deemed  it  advisable  to  pass 
the  years  from  1540  to  1547  on  the  continent,  was  the 
translator  of  the  Pammachius,  but  we  know  nothing  of  his 
version  except  his  own  statement,  Pammachii  tragoediam}- 
transtuli.  The  play  was  already  known  in  England,  however. 
Kirchmayer  had  dedicated  it  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
and  its  representation  in  1545  by  the  students  of  Christ's 
College  called  forth  a  long  investigation  and  a  subsequent  rebuke 
from  Gardiner,  chancellor  of  the  university,  for  its  Protes- 
tantism was  of  the  most  pronounced  kind.  The  influence  of  a 
piece  which  created  so  much  interest  must  have  been  consider- 
able, and  Professor  Herford  believes  that  'Hhe  Kynge  Johan 
[by  the  translator  of  Kirchmayer' s  drama]  owes  much  of  its 
peculiar  construction  to  a  deliberate  imitation  of  the  Pamma- 
chius,  and  that  it  was  this  imitation  which  finally  emancipated 
Bale  from  his  clumsy  efforts  to  build  a  Protestant  drama  on 
the  ruins  of  the  Catholic  mystery." 

Until  recently  a  thorough  study  of  the  Latin  drama  of 
England  during  this  period  had  never  been  attempted,  and  the 
fact  that  the  great  majority  of  the  plays  have  disappeared  will 
always  make  a  full  knowledge  of  the  subject  impossible.  The 
recent  work  of  George  B.  Churchill  and  Wolfgang  Keller*  has 
made  accessible  synopses  of  the  greater  number  of  those  plays 
which  are  extant.  The  most  important  of  the  influences  which 
largely  determined,  or  at  least  modified  their  character, 
were  the  Latin  plays  of  Germany  and  the  Plautine-Terentian 
imitations  of  Italy,  only  the  former  of  which  we  shall  notice 
in  this  chapter.  The  English  authors  of  Latin  drama  were 
almost  invariably  schoolmasters,  and  wrote  their  plays  for  the 
definite  purpose  of  providing  material  for  representation  by 
their  students.  For  instance,  we  know  that  Udall  wrote 
plures  comoediae  which  have  not  come  down  to  us.  Between 
1540  and  1552,  Ealph  Radcliffe,  the  schoolmaster  of  Hitchin, 
wrote  ten  comedies  and  tragedies,  only  the  names  of  which 
are  preserved,  but  these,  with  Bale's  information,  that  they 


>  The  second  edition  has  "  tragoedias'" ;  "  tragoediam"  is  the  reading  of  the  1549 
edition. 

'  Die  lateinischen  Universitats-Dramen  Englands  in  der  Zeit  der  Kdnigin  Elizar 
beth.    Jahrbuch  der  Deutschen  Shakespeare  Gesellschaft,  Vol.  XXXIV,  pp.  220-333. 


THE  INFLUENCE  FROM  GERMANY  49 

were  spectacula  simul  jucimda  et  honesta,  put  it  almost 
beyond  doubt  that  the  Christian  drama  of  Germany  had  fur- 
nished the  model  for  Radcliffe's  work.  Likewise  classical  in 
form  and  Biblical  in  theme  were  the  plays  of  Christoferson  and 
Buchanan,  as  also  those  of  Grimald,  whose  Archipropheta  has 
been  called  the  first  extant  tragedy  of  the  English  drama. 
And  lastly,  we  may  notice  the  "Exile  literature"  of  Bale  and 
Foxe, — in  especial  the  Christus  Triumphans  of  the  latter,  who 
had  studied  the  works  of  the  German  writers  and  was  greatly 
indebted  to  them. 

To  return  to  the  effect  of  this  whole  movement  on  the 
English  drama  written  in  English.  In  the  first  place  we  have 
plays  on  subjects  like  Kyng  Darius,  Godly  Queene  Hester,  and 
Susanna.  But  the  strictly  Plautine  influence  is  seen  most 
clearly  in  a  group  of  plays  which  derive  from  the  most  popular 
of  all  the  German -Latin  pieces  —  those  dealing  with  the 
Prodigal  Son.  We  have  seen  that  the  Acolastus  was  translated 
by  Palsgrave  in  1540 ;  the  Studentes  of  Stymmelius  was  also 
well-known  in  England,  as  was  probably  the  Rebelles  of 
Macropedius,  though  in  the  latter  case  external  evidence  is 
lacking.  These  were  all  variations  of  the  Prodigal  Son  motif, 
but  gave  the  story  its  setting  in  university  life.  This  latter 
feature  is,  of  course,  not  necessarily  incorporated  in  the  drama 
of  this  type,  and  in  the  English  plays  about  to  be  considered 
^  we  shall  find  only  one  in  which  it  is  clearly  present. 

Before  taking  up  the  English  plays  which  were  modeled  on 
individual  plays  of  the  type  we  have  been  considering,  it  may 
not  be  amiss  once  more  to  call  attention  to  the  impossibility  of 
distinguishing  between  the  influence  of  Plautus  and^that  of 
Terence.  The  names  '^Modern  Terence"  and  *' Christian  Ter- 
ence" might  lead  to  the  supposition  that  such  was  not  the 
case,  but  in  so  far  the  names  are  misleading.  Gnapheus  expressed 
his  admiration  of  both  the  great  Latin  authors ;  Crocus  quotes 
the  Captivi  and  Heautontimorumenos  in  justifying  the  happy 
ending  of  one  of  his  plays.  In  the  description  of  scenes  like 
those  which  portray  the  Prodigal's  days  of  prodigality  it  is  the 
spontaneous,  somewhat  gross  humor  and  fun  of  Plautus  which 
is  followed  rather  than  the  more  restrained  and  polished  man- 
ner of  Terence.  But  to  attempt  anything  like  a  real  distinc- 
tion between  the  elements  derived  from  the  one  and  from  the 
other  is  an  utterly  futile  task. 


50  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

The  Disobedient  Child, ^  printed  in  1560,  but  probably 
written  about  the  middle  of  the  century,  is  one  of  the  earliest 
English  plays  undoubtedly  modeled  after  the  Christian  drama 
of  the  German  Humanists.  The  author  was  Thomas  Ingelend, 
and  he  chose  as  the  prototype  for  his  drama  the  Studentes  of 
Stymmelius,  which  had  appeared  in  1549.  The  school  atmos- 
phere is  ever  present,  a  great  deal  of  superfluous  learning  being 
introduced,  but  a  genuine  attempt  is  also  made  to  mirror  the 
life  of  the  time,  at  least  to  a  certain  degree.  The  son's 
aversion  to  entering  "the  house  and  prison  of  a  schoolmaster" 
who  treats  his  pupils  brutally,  where 

Their  tender  bodies  both  night  and  day- 
Are  whipped  and  scourged  and  beat  like  a  stone, 
That  from  top  to  toe  the  skin  is  away,^ 

recalls  Tusser's  famous  stanza,  in  which  he  has  perpetuated 
the  memory  of  Udairs  cruelties.  Similar  references  to  other 
contemporary  conditions  may  be  seen  in  the  father's  lament 
that  "now-a-days  .  .  .  science  and  learning  is  so  little 
regarded,"'  as  also  in  the  passage  in  which  he  reminds  us  of 
the  decay  of  the  priesthood.* 

The  plot  is  very  simple.  A  son,  refusing  to  follow  his  father's 
advice  to  devote  himself  to  study,  falls  in  love  with  a  young 
woman  who  seems  to  him  the  sum  of  all  perfections.  He  mar- 
ries her,  and  is  only  a  very  short  time  in  learning  that  she  is  a 
most  terrible  shrew.  Stage  directions  of  the  kind,  "Here  the 
Wife  must  strike  her  Husband  handsomely  about  the  shoulders 
with  something"  become  frequent  in  the  latter  part  of  the  play. 
The  son,  who  is  utterly  cowed  by  his  terrible  wife,  runs  away 
and  returns  to  his  father.  The  play  has  an  "unhappy  ending," 
however,  for  although  the  father  promises  to  alleviate  to  some 
extent  his  son's  pecuniary  distresses  he  informs  him  that  he 
must  return  to  his  wife.  The  perorator  then  delivers  a  moral 
epilogue  on  the  text :     Qui  parcit  virgae  odit  filium. 

In  Tlie  Disobedient  Child  we  have  by  no  means  a  piece 
entirely  independent  of  the  earlier  English  drama.  Even  the 
Devil  is  introduced  with  his  usual  salutatory  address  "Ho,  ho, 
ho,  what  a  fellow  am  I!  "  though  his  appearance  does  seem 

»  Dodsley,  Vol,  II,  p.  263. 
»  Ibid.,  p.  273. 
>  Ibid.,  p.  280. 
4  76tU,p.  297. 


THE  INFLUENCE  FROM  GERMANY  5t 

rather  incongruous.  There  is  no  division  into  acts  and  scenes, 
hut  the  play  shows  a  real  advance  in  structural  art, — a  juster 
conception  of  plot  as  a  progressively  developing  unity.  Per- 
haps the  scene  most  suggestive  of  Plautus  is  that  hetween 
the  man-cook  and  the  maid-cook/  who  are  preparing  for  the 
wedding  festivities.  The  cook,  as  a  stock  character  in  comedy, 
appears  in  a  number  of  Plautus's  plays  but  not  at  all  in  those 
of  Terence,  for  although  Sanga,  Thraso's  cook,  is  a  character 
in  the  BunucJius,  it  is  not  in  the  role  of  cook  but  merely  in 
that  of  servant.  In  the  above-mentioned  scene  of  The  Disobe- 
dient Child  we  have  reproduced  the  air  of  bustle,  the 
recriminations  of  the  cooks,  the  enumerations  of  the  different 
kinds  of  meats  which  must  be  bought  before  the  market  be 
past.  Similar  scenes  of  the  Aulularia  and  the  Fseudolus^  at 
once  suggest  themselves. 

Nice  Wanton,  written  during  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  but 
printed  in  1560,  belongs  to  the  same  type,  and  is  a  homily  on 
the  text:  "He  that  spareth  the  rod,  the  child  doth  hate.'* 
The  story  is  of  a  son  and  a  daughter,  who,  as  a  result  of  their 
mother's  over-indulgence  enter  upon  wicked  courses.  The  son 
is  eventually  hanged,  and  the  daughter  dies  of  a  loathsome 
disease.  Their  brother,  a  very  exemplary  young  man,  who  has 
frequently  given  them  many  good  counsels,  prevents  his^mother 
from  killing  herself  at  the  last,  and  addresses  to  her  [many 
reproaches  and  much  good  advice,  reserving  some  of  the  latter, 
however,  for  the  audience.  The  interlude  is  very  short,  and 
only  occasionally  is  an  approach  made  to  effective  portrayal  of 
character.  The  Vice  of  the  Moralities  appears  in  the  person  of 
Iniquity,  and  the  whole  play  represents  but  little  progress 
beyond  the  standard  of  a  much  earlier  period.  Its  relation  to 
the  cycle  we  have  been  considering,  however,  is  clear.  Brandl 
calls  it  ^'eine  deiitUche  Bearheitung  der  Rehelles  des  nieder- 
Idndischen  Rectors  Macropedius,  doch  mit  allerlei  originellen 
Ver under ung en.'*''  * 

The  History  of  Jacoh  and  Esau,  **a  new  meij  and  wittie 
Comedie  or  Interlude,"  was  licensed  in  1557-58,  and  printed  in 
1568.  The  plot  is  the  Biblical  story  of  Jacob's  defrauding 
Esau  of  his  birthright,  but  the  comic  element  is  emphasized  by 

» Page  281  ff. 

»  Cf.,  e.g.,  Pseudolus,  Act  I,  Sc.  ii,  and  Act  III,  Sc.  ii;  also,  Aulularia,  Act  Illr 
Scs.  i  and  v. 

3  Op.  cit.,  LXXII. 


52  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

introducing  non-Biblical  characters.  There  is  decidedly  real- 
istic portrayal  of  character  and  manners,  and  the  moral 
purpose  is  only  very  mildly  insisted  on.  The  striving  for  real- 
ity is  seen  in  the  list  of  "The  Parts  and  Names  of  the  Players 
who  are  to  be  considered  to  be  Hebrews  and  so  should  be 
apparelled  with  attire."  The  prologue  gives  the  circumstances 
and  events  antecedent  to  the  point  at  which  the  play  opens, 
quite  in  the  best  style  of  the  Latin  comedy.  How  much  the 
author  has  gained  from  his  models  is  rather  strikingly  shown 
by  the  classical  regularity  of  construction.  A  short  analysis 
will  make  this  clearer.  Act  I  consists  of  four  scenes.  Sc.  i 
presents  to  us  the  incon*igible  Esau,  who  loves  hunting,  despises 
his  stay-at-home  brother,  and  abuses  his  servant.  In  Sc.  ii  we 
have  a  conversation' between  two  of  Isaac's  old  neighbors,  who, 
while  warmly  approving  of  Jacob,  indulge  in  gloomy  forebod- 
ings as  to  the  final  result  of  Esau's  wicked  life.  In  Sc.  iii  the 
predilection  of  Rebekah  for  her  younger  son  is  brought  out. 
She  arranges  with  Jacob  that  in  some  way  he  shall  buy  his 
brother's  birthright.  In  Sc.  iv  the  characters  are  Isaac, 
Eebekah,  and  Mido — *'the  lad  that  leadeth  blind  Isaac." 
Eebekah  tries  to  persuade  her  aged  husband  to  give  the  blessing 
to  Jacob  rather  than  to  Esau,  but  the  old  man  steadfastly  refuses : 

The  Lord  after  his  way  may  change  th'  inheritance ; 
But  I  may  not  wittingly  break  our  ordinance. 

The  whole  situation  is  thus  presented  to  us,  the  future 
compilications  are  foreshadowed,  and  we  have  been  introduced 
to  all  the  important  dramatis  personae. 

In  Act  II  Esau,  almost  famished  as  a  result  of  long  enforced 
abstinencjB  from  food,  sells  his  birthright  to  Jacob  for  "a  mess 
of  gross  and  homely  pottage."  But  that  this  act  will  stir  up 
dissension  in  the  future  we  are  warned  by  Esau's  speech  to  his 
servant  Ragan : 

For  if  the  time  were  come  thinkest  thou  that  Jacob 
Should  find  Esau  such  a  lout  or  such  a  lob 
To  suffer  him  to  enjoy  my  birthright  in  rest? 
Nay  I  will  first  toss  him  and  trounce  him  of  the  best. 

The  second  act  then  has  introduced  the  elements  of  compli- 
cation. 

In  Act  III  Esau  visits  his  father,  who  commissions  him  to 
bring  some  venison,  having  eaten  of  which  he  will  give  him  his 


THE  INFLUENCE  FROM  GERMANY  53 

blessing.  Rebekah,  on  learning  this,  despatches  Jacob  to  kill 
two  kids  of  the  flock  and  so  forestall  his  brother.  The  compli- 
cation has  now  reached  its  height,  and  the  drama  has  reached 
the  climax  of  its  development  along  the  line  thus  far  pursued. 

In  Act  IV  Jacob,  with  his  mother's  connivance,  obtains  his 
father's  blessing  by  fraud,  and  the  denouement  has  begun. 

In  Act  V  Esau  learns  the  deception  that  has  been  practised 
upon  him.  Jacob  flees  for  safety  into  Mesopotamia,  and 
Eebekah  finally  persuades  Esau  to  give  a' promise  (which  he 
does  not  intend  to  keep)  to  forget  his  malice  toward  his 
brother.  The  play  closes  with  a  conventional  moral  epilogue 
by  the  Poet,  and  prayers  for  the  clergy,  the  Queen,  the 
Queen's  councillors  and  the  nobility. 

I  have  analyzed  this  play  thus  at  length  in  order  to  bring 
out  the  distance  which  the  author  has  traveled  from  the  play- 
wrights of  only  a  short  time  before.  It  is  just  in  this  matter  of 
construction,  as  we  have  already  seen,  that  the  native  drama  had 
so  much  to  learn  from  the  classical.  We  have  seen  how  the 
interludes  of  John  Heywood,  for  example,  presented  real  char- 
acters, ""and  presented  them  forcibly ;  but  his  characterization 
was  generally  developed  through  the  medium  of  a  number  of 
more  or  less  loosely  connected  scenes  which  rarely  rose  to  the 
dignity  of  a  unified,  organic  whole.  In  Jacoh  and  Esau  we 
have  likewise  real  characterization,  and  the  original  figure  of 
the  child  Mido,  with  his  naive,  artless  prattle,  stands  out  with 
particular  clearness;  but  the  author  has  learned  in  addition 
to  build  a  fairly  effective  framework,  which  gives  stability  and 
unity  to  the  whole.  Only  to  a  very  slight  extent  are  any  of 
the  external  characteristics  of  Latin  comedy  present  in  the  play. 

Misogonus^  so  evidently  belongs  to  the  class  of  plays  we  are 
considering  in  this  chapter  that  although  the  scene  is  laid  in 
Italy,  and  it  is  just  possible  that  the  author  was  indebted  to  some 
Italian  source  for  the  story,  its  treatment  rightly  belongs  to  the 
division  of  our  subject  assigned  to  the  dramas  which  were 
chiefly  influenced  by  the  movement  from  Germany.  Its 
authorship  is  uncertain,  having  been  variously  assigned  on 
insufficient  evidence  to  Richard  Edwards,  Thomas  Rychardes, 
and  Robert  Wilson.  Professor  Kittredge  has  recently  examined 
the   question  and  tells   us   that  *Hhe  manuscript,  which  has 

*  Printed  in  Brandl's  Quellen  dea  weltlichen  Drama  in  England  vor  Shakespeare, 
p.  419+. 


54  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

preserved  the  play,  is  signed  under  the  list  of  dramatis  per- 
sonae,  *Laurentiu8  Bariwna,'  "  and  this  man  Professor  Kit- 
tredge  is  inclined  to  identify  with  Laurence  Johnson,  the 
author  of  a  CometograpMa,^  The  only  manuscript  in  which 
the  play  is  preserved — and  this  is  a  much  mutilated  one  —bears 
the  date  1577 ;  the  year  1560  has  been  generally  accepted  as 
the  date  of  composition,  but  Professor  Kittredge  has  shown 
clearly  the  insuflBciency  of  the  evidence  in  this  case  also.  The 
plot  is  once  more  a  variation  of  the  story  of  the  Prodigal  Son. 
The  play  opens  with  a  scene  between  Philogonus  and  his  friend 
Eupelas,  in  which  the  former  laments  the  riotous  life  led  by  his 
Bon  Misogonus.  An  attempt  on  the  part  of  Eupelas  to  restrain 
the  ill  life  of  the  young  man  results  disastrously,  and  the 
ambassador  of  peace  escapes  with  difficulty  from  the  attack  of 
Misogonus's  servants,  whose  master  rates  them  soundly  for  this 
miscarriage  of  his  plans.  We  next  meet  the  young  roue  dis- 
porting with  Melissa  {meretrix)^  and  so  lavish  of  his  money  is 
he  that  a  whole  hogshead  of  the  best  muscadine  is  ordered. 
One  of  the  servants  is  sent  to  fetch  Sir  John,  the  parish  priest, 
who  joins  the  party  in  games  of  cards  and  dice,  and  will  not 
desist  even  when  his  clerk  comes  to  tell  him  that  it  is  time  for 
evening  service.  Cacurgus,  the  fool,  a  sort  of  Ambidexter,  who 
keeps  on  friendly  terms  with  Philogonus,  as  well  as  with  his 
reprobate  son,  brings  the  former,  Eupelas,  and  an  honest  old 
servant,  Liturgus,  to  witness  the  scene  of  revelry.  In  the 
third  act  Philogonus  learns  from  a  tenant,  named  Codrus,  that 
Misogonus  is  not  his  only  son — that  his  wife  had  given  birth  to 
twins,  and  had  sent  one  of  them  secretly  into  Apolonia. 
Codrus's  wife,  Alison,  having  confirmed  this  story,  Liturgus  is 
despatched  to  bring  home  the  long-lost  brother — Eugonus  by 
name.  He  arrives,  and  is  recognized  by  several  women  who 
had  been  present  at  the  time  of  his  birth,  and  who  know  him 
by  the  fact  that  he  has  an  extra  toe  on  one  of  his  feet. 
Misogonus,  finally  deserted  by  his  servants,  becomes  repentant, 
and  is  forgiven  by  his  father.  While  the  story  would  seem  to 
be  thus  concluded,  the  whole  of  the  fifth  act  is  missing. 

The  scene  of  the  play  is  laid  in  Italy,  but  the  whole 
atmosphere  is  English.  St.  Paul's  weathercock  is  mentioned, 
and  references  to  the  social  and  religious  life  of  contemporary 
England  abound.     The  author  seems  to  have  been  familiar 

»  V.  Journal  of  Germanic  Philology,  Vol.  Ill,  No.  3, 1901,  p.  335. 


THE  INFLUENCE  FROM  GERMANY  55 

with  the  comedy  of  Ralph  Roister  Doisterj  we  have  the  expres- 
eion  **a  good  mery  greke,"^  and  one  of  the  characters  bears  the 
name  of  Madge  Mumblecrust,  which  leads  Brandl  to  surmise 
that  auch  fiir  die  Ausmalung  des  Gesindes  mag  dem  DicMer 
diese  stark  nationalisierte  PlautusnachMldung  vorgeschwebenr 
haben.* 

The  chief  departure  from  the  Biblical  story  of  the  Prodigal 
Son — the  very  language  of  which  is  imitated  in  at  least  one 
passage' — consists  in  the  fact  that  the  upright  son  is  unknown 
till  near  the  close  of  the  play,  and  that  instead  of  resenting  hia 
brother's  conduct  he  is  eager  to  be  on  friendly  terms  with  him. 
On  this  point  Brandl  says:  Woher  die  Anregung  zu  dieser 
Figur  stammen  mag  tvar  mir  lange  rdthselhaft^  and  then  reject- 
ing the  superficial  similarity  to  be  found  in  plays  like  the 
Menaechmi^  Captivi,  and  Foenulus,  he  propounds  the  theory 
of  a  correspondence  between  certain  scenes  of  Ariosto's  / 
Suppositi  and  the  Misogonus,  On  this  point  I  have  not  been 
able  to  feel  the  cogency  of  Professor  BrandPs  argument  even  in 
the  slightest.  In  the  first  place  he  does  not  elucidate  at  all 
the  point  which  has  been  to  him  lange  rdthselhaft^  nor, 
secondly,  has  he  established  any  real  correspondence  between 
the  two  plays.  In  the  scene  of  the  /  Suppositi,  cited  by  him, 
we  have  to  do  with  the  case  of  a  father,  Filogano,  who  has  come 
to  visit  his  son,  Erostrato.  On  arriving  at  the  house  of  the 
latter  the  old  man  is  refused  ingress,  and  finds  that  a  guest  of 
the  house  announces  himself  as  the  father  of  Erostrato,  and 
calls  himself  Filogano.  Furthermore  when  the  owner  of  the 
house  appears,  Filogano  recognizes  in  him  the  servant  of  hi& 
son  parading  under  the  name  of  the  latter.  The  father  is  at 
once  filled  with  fears  as  to  what  may  have  been  the  fate  of  his 
son,  and  in  his  perplexity  asks  advice  of  his  companion,  and 
beseeches  God  to  do  justice.  In  Misogonus  there  is  no  such 
complication.  The  son  fiouts  his  father  to  his  face  and 
refuses  to  give  up  his  evil  life.  Whereupon  Philogonus 
demands  of  his  friend  Eupelas : 

Did  you  ere  here  of  man  in  more  mlserye  than  I? 

Eupelas  comforts  him  and  advises  him  *Ho  trust  in  Christ 
Jhesus  alone,"  and  Philogonus  warmly  agrees  that  this  advice 

»  Act  II,  Sc.  iv,  V.  121. 

«  Op.  eit.,  LXXIX. 

>  Ct,  e.g.,  Act  IV,  Sc.  V,  V.  43  ff. 


56  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

is  best.  Even  this  point  of  correspondence  on  which  Professor 
Brandl  seems  to  lay  stress  is  scarcely  worthy  of  being  called  a 
correspondence.  In  Ariosto  the  bewildered  father,  accom- 
panied only  by  a  servant  and  a  picked-up  acquaintance,  simply 
cries  out  to  God  for  justice;  in  the  Misogonus  Philogonus's 
friend  gives  him  as  comfort  some  rather  conventional  advice, 
which  is  accepted.  The  whole  resemblance  seems  to  consist  in 
the  fact  that  two  fathers,  who  for  different  reasons  find 
themselves  in  perplexity,  ask  advice,  one  crying  out  to  God  for 
justice,  the  other  being  advised  "to  trust  in  Christ  Jhesus"  for 
comfort,  all  of  which  is  surely  tantamount  to  saying  that  there 
is  but  a  slight  resemblance,  and  one  which  has  no  cogency. 
The  argument  that  in  each  play  a  long-lost  son  is  restored 
durch  eine  Namenserinnerung  und  ein  Korpermal^  is  not  strictly 
accurate.  In  Ariosto  the  mention  of  a  name  does  lead  on  to 
the  discovery  of  a  son,  while  in  Misogonus,  after  the  discovery 
has  been  made,  an  old  woman,  whose  testimony  is  wanted  as 
confirmatory  evidence,  half  remembers,  half  recognizes  when  it 
is  mentioned  to  her,  the  name  of  the  long-lost  one.  As  to  the 
Korpermal,  that  is  common  to  both  plays  probably  because  each 
derived  it  from  the  same  source — Ariosto  from  the  Captivi  of 
Plautus,  the  author  of  Misogonus  from  some  Latin  drama  of 
Germany  based  on  the  work  of  Plautus.  The  distinguish- 
ing mark,  it  may  be  noticed,  is  different  in  each  case;  — 
in  the  Misogonus  it  is  an  extra  toe,  in  the  Suppositi  a.  mole 
on  the  left  shoulder — as  very  frequently  in  Plautus.  On  the 
whole  we  may  conclude  that  there  is  no  evidence  for  believing 
that  the  author  of  Misogomis  was  at  all  acquainted  with  1 
Suppositi,  which  had  to  wait  till  1566  for  its  first  English 
translation. 

The  indebtedness  of  the  general  plot  of  the  Misogonus  to 
the  Plautine  drama  is  at  once  apparent.  A  father  lamenting 
the  graceless  life  led  by  his  son,  and  applying  to  his  old  neigh- 
bor for  comfort  and  advice,  the  complete  abandonment  of  the 
son  to  his  evil  ways,  the  picturing  of  his  life  of  feasting  and 
revelry  while  in  the  toils  of  the  meretrix  and  of  the  parasite — for 
the  latter  is  essentially  the  role  played  by  Sir  John — and  the 
denouement  in  which  the  discovery  of  a  long-lost  child  by  some 
**privie  mark"  upon  the  body  is  followed  by  a  general  reconcil- 
iation of  all  parties, — such  a  description  might  well  apply  to  the 
type  piece  of  which  many  of  Plautus 's  dramas  are  variations. 


THE  INFLUENCE  FROM  GERMANY  57 

At  the  same  time  the  direct  connection  with  the  Acolastus  is 
perfectly  clear  as  Professor  Brandl  has  shown.* 

The  last  play  which  we  have  to  deal  with  in  this  connec- 
tion is  Gascoigne's  Glasse  of  Government^ — of  all  English  plays 
perhaps  the  most  representative  of  the  complete  adaptation  of 
the  Prodigal  Son  motif  to  the  general  form  of  Roman  comedy. 
It  was  printed  in  1575,  and  was  probably  written  not  much 
before  that.  For  an  outline  of  the  plot  I  can  not  do  better 
than  quote  Professor  Harford's  succinct  synopsis:^  *'Two 
Antwerp  burghers,  Phylopaes  and  Phylocalus,  have  each  two 
sons,  the  elder  in  both  cases  of  the  kindred  of  the  Prodigal 
Son,  while  the  younger  are  exemplary  youths  of  an  unreal  type. 
Anxious  for  their  welfare,  the  two  fathers  seek  out  a  wise  and 
godly  teacher,  one  Gnomaticus,  whose  discourses,  very  une- 
qually composed  of  classics  and  of  the  teaching  which  Aristotle 
thought  unwholesome  for  young  men,  occupy  much  of  the 
first  two  acts.  Unfortunately,  Phylantus  and  Phylosarchus, 
the  two  elder  sons,  who  learn  the  lesson  soonest,  are  the  first 
to  forget  it.  The  temptations  of  the  town  are  let  loose  upon 
them  in  the  person  of  a  fascinating  parasite,  Eccho,  who,  after 
obtaining  a  holiday  for  them  on  the  pretext  of  an  invitation 
from  the  'Markgrave,'  introduces  Phylosarchus  to  a  local 
Cressida,  called  Lamia,  and  her  *aunt'  Pandarina.  And  so 
while  the  younger  brothers  are  laboriously  pursuing  rhymes  for 
a  verse  composition  on  Duty,  Phylosarchus  is  already  in  the 
toils  of  the  meretrix.  The  adventure  soon  comes  to  the  ears  of 
the  two  fathers,  who  anxiously  take  counsel  with  Gnomaticus. 
He  advises  that  they  shall  be  sent  at  once  without  warning  to 
the  neighboring  university  of  Douay.  A  sumptuous  meal  pre- 
pared for  them  at  Lamia's  house  accordingly  awaits  them  in 
vain,  and  the  parasite  and  his  crew  are  arrested  by  order  of  the 
Markgrave.  Presently  arrives  a  report  from  Douay  to  the 
effect  that  the  'Prodigals'  have  only  changed  the  scene  of  their 
amours.  Crime  is  added  to  vice,  the  plot  thickens  with 
increasing  rapidity,  months  of  action  are  crowded  into  minutes 
of  narrative.  Finally,  while  Eccho  is  still  awaiting  sentence, 
news  arrives  that  the  two  incorrigibles  have  met  their  reward. 
Both  in  fact  have  fallen  into  hands  not  accustomed  to  pardon 

*  For  the  close  correspondence  between  the  Miaogonua  and  the  Acolastus.  v. 
Brandl,  op.  cit.,  LXXVIII  ft. 

«  Literary  Relations^ etc.,  pp.  150-151. 


68  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

or  indulge:  Phylosarchus  having  been  flogged  for  fornication 
in  the  city  of  Calvin ;  and  his  brother  executed  for  murder  in 
Calvinist  Heidelberg.  The  two  younger  sons,  meantime,  by  a 
coincidence  not  infrequent  in  stories  of  this  type,  have  reached 
distinction  and  influence  in  the  same  quarters ; — the  one  as  a 
minister  at  Geneva,  the  other  as  secretary  to  the  Palsgrave." 
As  to  the  origin  of  the  Glasse  of  Government,  Professor 
Herf  ord  has  shown  almost  to  a  certainty  its  connection  with  the 
general  dramatic  cycle  the  great  representatives  of  which  are 
the  AcolastuSy  Studenfes,  and  Rehelles^  Moreover,  we  know 
that  not  only  had  these  plays  a  considerable  vogue  in  England, 
but  that  in  1572-73  Gascoigne  visited  Holland  in  a  military 
capacity.  The  whole  atmosphere  of  the  piece  is  that  presented 
by  Plautus  and  Terence.  "A  brief  examination  of  the  play,'* 
says  Professor  Herf  ord,  "shows  that  it  was  written  like  the 
Acolastus  with  a  very  vivid  recollection  of  Roman  comedy.  "* 
The  fact  that  the  author  in  the  prologue  denies  the  connection, 
affirming  that  he  presents 

No  Terence  phrase ;  his  time  and  mine  are  twain ; 
The' verse  that  pleased  a  Roman's  rash  intent 
Might  well  offend  the  godly  Preacher's  vein, 

if  significant  at  all,  is  significant  to  the  establishing  of 
the  relationship.  Such  condemnation  of  the  ancient  comedy 
was  common  in  its  imitators,  and  in  the  present  case  the 
author's  admiration  of  the  Latin  drama,  in  one  particular  at 
least,  appears  in  the  admission  of  Gnomaticus  to  his  pupils  that 
**out  of  Terence  may  also  be  gathered  many  morall  enstructions 
amongst  the  rest  of  his  wanton  discourses."  The  stock  char- 
acters of  the  procuress  Pandarina,  the  courtesan  Lamia,  and  the 
parasite  Eccho,  are  pictured  as  quite  of  the  same  species  as 
those  of  Plautus.  Eccho,  though  serving  in  the  capacity  of 
servant  to  the  courtesan,  has  the  true  parasite's  love  of  gorg- 
ing,^ and  shows  a  supreme  indifference  to  all  notions  of  loyalty 
to  his  mistress.  "When  the  Crowes  feet  groweth  under  her 
eye,  why  then  no  more  adoe,  but  ensineuate  thy  selfe  with  such 
another."  Of  Lamia  we  see  little,  but  she  appears  attractive, 
and  is  genuinely  in  love  with  Phylosarchus,  so  much  so  that 
Eccho,  noticing  that  she  is  becoming  emaciated  and  pale,  is  led 

*  For  detailed  comparison,  v.  Herford,  op.  cit.,  p.  162. 
a  Op.  cit.,  p.  160. 
8  See  Act  IV,  Sc.  v. 


THE  INFLUENCE  FROM  GERMANY  59 

to  exclaim:  **Fye,  fie,  what  meaneth  she?  .  .  .  She  beareth 
l)ut  evill  in  remembraunce  the  good  documentes  of  that  vertu- 
ous  olde  Lady  her  Aunte."  The  latter  is  very  little  in 
evidence,  but  is  apparently  quite  of  the  type  of  those  of  her 
prof ession  presented  in  the  CisteUaria  and  CurcuUo.  The  con- 
versation of  the  servants,  Dick  Droom  and  Eccho,  relative  to 
the  preparation  of  the  banquet,*  suggests  similar  scenes  in 
Plautus.  "Whipping  scenes  and  references  to  fchem;  Eccho's 
sentence:  "Carrie  him  to  the  mill  and  there  let  him  be 
whipped  every  day  thrice";  the  rewarding*of  Fidus,  the  faith- 
ful slave  of  Phylopaes,  by  giving  him  his  liberty, — all  recall  at 
once  stock  situations  of  Roman  comedy.  It  is  interesting  to 
note  that  Ambidexter,  the  Vice,  is  brought  upon  the  stage  as  a 
character. 

We  have  thus  concluded  a  brief  survey  of  the  chief  ^English 
dramatic  pieces  upon  which  Plautus  and  Terence  exercised  an 
influence  through  the  medium  of  the  Latin  plays  of  the 
German  Humanists.  This  influence  has  not  shown  itself  in 
the  adaptation  of  any  particular  play  of  the  Latin  comedy- 
writers.  Only  stock  characters  and  situations  have  been  repro- 
duced, now  almost  literally,  now  with  a  change.  The  chief 
-effect  of  this  movement,  together  with  that  of  the  study  of 
Plautus  and  the  representation  of  plays  in  the  schools,  which 
we  noticed  in  the  last  chapter,  is  of  such  a  nature  that 
it  is  difficult  to  lay  one's  finger  on  special  passages.  It 
consisted  in  teaching  the  English  playwriters  how  to  give  real 
unity  to  their  productions,  to  combine  accurate  delineation  of 
character  with  skillful  development  of  plot,  and  to  dispose  the 
material  of  a  play  in  the  most  effective  manner  possible.  In  a 
word.  Englishmen  learned  dramatic  technique  from  the  study 
and  imitation  of  Latin  comedy,  and  in  this  way  was  shortened 
— by  how  long  a  period  we  can  only  speculate — the  time  which 
must  have  elapsed  between  the  perfecting  of  the  interlude  of 
the  type  of  Hey  wood's  pieces  and  the  birth  of  legitimate 
<5omedy. 

*  See  Act  IV,  Scs.  iii  and  v. 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE   INFLUENCE   FEOM   ITALY 


The  impulse  which  ended  in  the  Renaissance  of  learning, 
not  only  for  England  but  for  European  countries  in  general, 
had  originated  in  Italy, — the  storehouse  of  the  monuments  of 
ancient  greatness.  The  wealth  of  literary  treasure  which  she 
possessed  had  been  equaled  only  by  the  enthusiasm  with  which 
it  was  utilized,  and  the  honor  in  which  it  was  held.  And 
though  England  had  come  to  share  in  the  newly-found  riches 
at  a  period  when  the  attraction  of  novelty  had,  in  part,  passed 
away  for  the  scholars  of  France  and  Italy,  it  was  still  from 
Italy  that  she  drank  in  the  larger  inspiration  rather  than 
through  any  intermediate  channel.  The  great  literary  move- 
ment of  the  first  half  of  the  century  had  been  an  eminently 
normal  one.  For  Englishmen  the  Renaissance  had  been  a  renais- 
sance of  learning,  a  re-acquiring  of  thorough  and  appreciative 
acquaintance  with  the  literary  classics  of  antiquity ;  but  great  as 
was  the  devotion  paid  to  the  works  of  the  past,  it  was  never 
so  complete  or  so  headlong  as  to  result  in  the  eradication  of 
national  ideals  or  the  complete  substitution  of  foreign  models. 
How  radically  the  development  of  the  English  drama  was  mod- 
ified by  the  fact  that  the  playwi'iters  had  come  to  know  and 
admire  the  drama  of  Rome  we  have  already  seen  in  part.  But 
it  was  a  modification,  the  healthy,  normal  action  of  a  potent 
influence,  not  the  contemptuous  desertion  of  indigenous  models 
to  make  way  for  the  establishment  of  a  foreign  drama.  In 
Italy  it  had  been  different.  The  classical  literature,  especially 
the  Latin  drama,  had  met  with  a  reception  so  devoted  and 
uncritical  that  it  had  effected,  not  a  modification  of  the  Italian 
representations,  but  a  complete  revolution.  We  have  noticed  how 
enthusiastically  the  study  of  Plautus  was  resumed,  and  how  fre- 
quently his  plays  and  those  of  his  imitators  were  placed  upon 
the  boards.  For  example,  in  1502  when  Lucrezia  Borgia  came  to 
Ferrara  as  the  bride  of  Alfonso  d'Este,  part  of  the  wedding 
festivities  consisted  in  the  representation  of  five  different  plays 
of  Plautus — the  Epidiciis^  Bacchides,  Miles  Gloriosus,  Asinariay 

60 


THE  INFLUENCE  FROM  ITALY  6l 

and  Casina — on  as  many  successive  days.  Ariosto's  /  Suppositi 
was  played  in  1519  in  the  theatre  which  had  heen  built  by  the 
pope,  and  Leo  himself  was  one  of  the  most  interested  specta- 
tors. The  sacre  rappresentazioni,  though  they  long  continued 
to  be  acted  and  printed,  fell  into  contempt,  and  the  models  of 
Latin  comedy  reigned  supreme.  Even  the  most  pronounced 
of  later  developments  remained  in  close  relation  to  this 
standard,  and  consisted  chiefly  in  a  loose  adaptation  of  the 
picturing  of  contemporary  social  life  to  the  demands  made 
by  the  mould  and  essential  characteristics  of  the  plays  of 
Plautus  and  Terence.  This  tendency  toward  independent 
development  was  carried  farthest  by  Aretino,  who  laughs  at 
the  unities  and  some  of  what  he  considered  the  more  absurd 
conventions  by  which  natural,  direct  expression  was  shackled, 
and  portrays  his  characters  in  a  series  of  vigorous,  pointed 
scenes,  which  together  make  up  a  sadly  disjointed,  amorphous 
product.  But  even  in  Aretino 's  drama,  although  it  pictures 
faithfully  contemporary  life,  and  is  clothed  in  vigorous,  terse, 
original  language,  we  are  still  close  to  the  world  of  Latin 
comedy.  One  explanation  of  this  may  be  found  inHhe  parallel 
suggested  by  Mr.  Symonds  between  the  conditions  of  life  pre- 
vailing in  Greece  at  the  time  of  the  New  Comedy,  and  in  Italy 
at  the  period  we  are  discussing.  Another  reason  is  doubtless 
to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  both  Plautus  and  Aretino  picture 
society  largely  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  lower  classes,  and 
with  a  frankness  and  lack  of  reserve  which  is  often  the  veriest 
vulgarity.  In  the  farsa  Italy  had  a  native  growth  similar  to 
that  of  England,  but  instead  of  contributing  to  the  building  up 
of  a  national  drama  it  became  atrophied  and  dead.  In  the 
words  of  Mr.  Symonds:  ^J'Plautus  and  Terence,  Ariosto  and 
Macchiavelli,  not  nature,  were  their  sources  of  inspiration. 
Mistakes  between  two  brothers,  confusions  of  sex,  discoveries 
that  poor  girls  are  the  lost  daughters  of  princely  parents  form 
the  staple  of  their  plots.  "^ 

Italian  literature  had  come  to  exercise  a  strong  influence 
over  Englishmen  by  the  beginning  of  the  third  decade  of  the 
century.  Wyatt  died  in  1542,  and  Surrey  in  1547,  and  their 
names  are  remembered  as  those  of  the  leaders  in  one  of  the 
greatest  movements  which  have  marked  the  course  of  our  liter- 
ature.    The  Petrarchan  lyric  had  been  planted  in  English  soil, 

^  Italian  Literature,  Vol.  II,  p.  122. 


62  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

and  had  flourished  vigorously,  and  the  sonnet  and  blank  verse 
had  become  acquisitions  of  English  literary  workers.  It  was 
somewhat  later  that  the  Italian  drama  began  to  attract  the 
attention  of  Englishmen,  though  unfortunately  our  information 
on  this  subject  is  not  as  accurate  as  could  be  wished.  Many 
of  the  names  of  plays  which  are  now  lost  suggest  their  connec- 
tion with  Italian  scenes  or  plots.  But  we  have  the  positive 
statement  of  Arthur  Brooke,  when  in  1562  he  printed  a 
poetical  translation  of  Bandello's  story  of  Romeo  and  Juliet^ 
that  a  play  bearing  the  same  name  had  been  represented  before 
that  date.  In  the  next  year  Eobert  Wilmot  produced  his 
Tancred  and  Gismunda,  based  on  the  story  related  by 
Boccaccio.  In  1566  the  first  volume  of  Painter's  Palace  of 
Pleasure  appeared,  and  the  second  volume  in  the  succeeding 
year.  It  met  with  immediate  and  wonderful  success ;  in  1569 
was  published  a  second  edition  of  the  first  volume,  and  in  1575 
the  whole  work  was  reprinted.  In  1566  Gascoigne's  transla- 
tion of  Ariosto's  /  Suppositi  had  been  played  at  Gray's  Inn, 
and  the  Jocasta  (which  is  not  directly  from  the  Greek,  but  a 
literal  translation  of  Dolce 's  play  imitated  from  Seneca's  ver- 
sion) appeared  during  the  same  year.  How  generally  Italian 
literature  was  known  in  England  at  this  period  we  learn  from 
a  passage  in  Ascham's  Schoolmaster,  written  about  1568. 
"These  be  the  enchantments  of  Circes,  brought  out  of  Italy, 
to  mar  men's  manners  in  England;  much  by  example  of  ill  life, 
but  more  by  precepts  of  fond  books,  of  late  translated  out  of 
Italian  into  English,  sold  in  every  shop  in  London;  com- 
mended by  honest  titles,  the  sooner  to  corrupt  honest  manners ; 
dedicated  over-boldly  to  virtuous  and  honourable  personages, 
the  easilier  to  beguile  simple  and  innocent  wits."^  **And  that 
which  is  most  to  be  lamented,  and  therefore  more  needful  to 
be  looked  to,  there  be  more  of  these  ungracious  books  set  out 
in  print  within  these  few  months,  than  have  been  seen  in 
England  many  score  years  before.  And  because  our  English- 
men made  Italians  cannot  hurt  but  certain  persons,  and  in 
certain  places,  therefore  these  Italian  books  are  made  English, 
to  bring  mischief  enough  openly  and  boldly  to  all  states,  great 
and  mean,  young  and  old,  everywhere."^     Ascham  was  evi- 


» Roger  Ascham's  Works,  Roger  Giles  ed.,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  157. 
«  Op.  eit.  p.  160. 


THE  Influence  from  italy  63 

dently  a  thorough  believer  in  the  old  saying — Inglese  italianato 
e  un  diavolo  incarnato. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  century  the  acquaintance  of  English- 
men with  Italian  literature  became  much  more  extensive,  as  the 
translation  of  many  of  the  greatest  Italian  classics  testifies. 
Every  student  of  Shakspere  is  familiar  with  the  importance  of 
the  works  of  the  Italian  novellieri  as  storehouses  from  which  the 
plots  of  English  plays  were  derived.  Stephen  Gosson,  in  his 
Plays  Confuted  in  Five  Actions,  says:  "I  may  boldly  say  it, 
because  I  have  seen  it,  that  the  *  Palace  of  ^^Pleasure,*  *The 
Golden  Ass,'  *The  Ethiopian  History,'  *Amadis  of  France'  and 
'The  Round  Table,'  bawdy  comedies  in  Latin,  French,  Italian, 
and  Spanish,  have  been  thoroughly  ransacked  to  furnish  the 
play-houses  in  London." 

It  would  be  aside  from  our  purpose  to  consider  in  detail  the 
effect  of  Italian  literature  on  the  development  of  the  English 
Bomantic  drama,  though  the  commedia  delV  arte,  the  pastoral 
drama,  and  the  drama  of  intrigue,  all  probably  played  an 
important  part.  In  the  work  of  Aretino  and  his  school, 
especially  in  their  contempt  for  regularity  of  form  and  for  the 
observance  of  the  more  artificial  dramatic  conventions, 
*' Romantic"  ideals  had  been  already  attained.  But  Italian 
comedy  had  remained  persistently  classical  in  spirit,  even 
adopting  the  conventional  characterization  of  its  prototype, 
and  it  is  with  this  infiuence  of  the  Latin  drama  through 
the  Italian  that  we  are  here  concerned.  Of  many  pieces 
it  is  difficult  to  speak  positively.  It  is  more  than 
probable  that  the  Damon  and  Pithias  (1564-65?)  of  Richard 
Edwardes  should  be  considered  in  this  connection.  In  many 
places  it  bears  the  marks  of  contact  with  the  ancient  drama 
or  some  of  its  modern  imitations.  Damon  and]  Pithias  give 
thanks  to  Neptune  for  their  safe  journey  on  the  sea — a 
frequent  occurrence  in  Plautus.  There  is  a  beating  scene  and 
parasites  play  a  considerable  part,  but  they  are  simply  cruel, 
grasping,  faithless,  and  quite  different  from  ^the  hungry 
wretches  of  Plautus.  The  fact  that  the  piece  contains  a  mix- 
ture of  comic  and  tragic  scenes  (it  calls  itself  "a  new  tragical 
comedy"),  and  that  in  one  place  there  is  a  time-gap  of  two 
months,  at  least  suggest  Italian  influence  in  the  '* Romantic" 
direction,  the  term  being  here  used  not  only  in  reference  to 
structure,  but  to  dramatic  conventions  in  a  more  general  way. 


64  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

That  this  development  of  English  drama  was  aided  by  Italian 
examples  is  practically  certain,^  and  Damon  and  Pitliias  is 
quite  probably  one  of  the  earliest  examples.  The  scene  of  the 
Misogonus  (which  Fleay  on  very  insufficient  evidence  believes 
to  be  the  work  of  the  same  author),  is  laid  in  Italy,  and  there 
are  other  indications  which  make  it  probable  that  the  plot  was. 
derived  from  an  Italian  source.  But  two  dramas,  both  cer- 
tainly drawn  from  Italian  sources,  and  both  showing  the 
influence  of  Latin  comedy  in  a  marked  degree,  are  of  chief 
interest  to  us  here, — The  Supposes^  and  Promos  and  Cassandra, 
The  Supposes^  a  practically  literal  translation  of  Ariosto's  / 
Suppositi^  and  the  earliest  extant  specimen  of  an  English  prose 
comedy  was  the  work  of  George  Gascoigne,  and  was  produced 
at  Gray's  Inn  in  1566.  Mr.  Collier  thinks  that  the  author  of 
the  translation  used  the  earlier  prose  version  of  Ariosto's  work, 
while  adopting  some  of  the  alterations  to  be  found  in  the 
later  verse  form.*  /  Suppositi  may  be  taken  as  a  represent- 
ative of  the  perfect  adaptation  of  Latin  comedy  to  the 
portrayal  of  contemporary  Italian  life,  and  furnishes  us  in  its 
English  version  a  good  example  of  the  strongly  classical  influ- 
ence which  Italian  dramatic  literature  was  exercising  on  that  of 
England.  A  short  sketch  of  the  play  will  make  our  observa- 
tions more  definite:  Erostrato,  son  of  Philogano,  has  come 
from  Sicilia  to  Ferrara  for  the  purpose  of  study.  Falling  in 
love  with  Polynesta,  the  daughter  of  Damon,  he  exchanges 
name,  clothes,  and  station  with  his  servant  Dulipo,  and  takes 
service  with  the  father  of  the  young  lady.  The  plan  succeeds, 
and  with  the  help  of  Balia  the  nurse  he  lives  in  the  constant 
enjoyment  of  his  mistress.  Cleander,  a  wealthy  and  stupid  old 
doctor,  is  a  suitor  for  Polynesta's  hand.  Pasiphilo,  a  parasite, 
flatters  him  ridiculously  in  order  to  get  invited  to  dinner,  but 
is  equally  ready  to  serve  the  feigned  Erostrato,  who  by  this 
means  learns  of  all  Cleander's  movements.  He  reports  to  his 
master  that  Cleander  is  about  to  marry  Polynesta,  whereupon 
the  lover  is  ready  to  faint  away.     The  resourceful  slave,  how- 

1  Cf.  Ward,  Hist.  Eng.  Dram.  Lit.,  Vol.  I,  p.  210. 

2  The  Supposes  was  one  of  the  direct  sources  of  Shakspere's  T?ie  Taming  of 
the  Shrew.  For  the  relation  of  Shakspere's  play  to  its  original,  v.  Shakespeare's 
Part  in  ''The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,''— A.  H.  Tolman  in  Mod.  Lang.  Pub.,  Vol.  V,  No. 
4,  1890. 

8  Roxburghe  Library  edition  (1869),  The  Complete  Poems  of  George^  Gascoigne^ 
ed.  Hazlitt,  Vol.  I,  p.  199. 

*  Collier,  Hist.  Eng.  Poet.,  Ill,  p.  6. 


THE  INFLUENCE  FROM  ITALY  65 

ever,  revives  him  by  the  recital  of  his  plans.  The  previous 
evening  he  had  met  an  old  gentleman  from  Scienna,  and  had 
persuaded  him  that  there  was  great  danger  in  being  found  in 
Ferrara,  on  account  of  a  recent  quarrel  between  the  two  cities. 
Accordingly  he  had  offered  to  shelter  the  old  man  in  his  house, 
and  had  instructed  him  to  call  himself  Philogano,  father  of 
Erostrato.  The  plan  of  the  wily  servant  is  to  make  this 
feigned  father  give  security  for  his  son's  wealth  to  the  father 
of  Polynesta.  A  servant's  quarrel  betrays  to  Damon  the 
manner  of  his  daughter's  life,  and  he  casts  her  lover  into 
prison,  still  believing  him  to  be  merely  one  of  his  household 
attendants.  Meanwhile  the  true  Philogano  has  arrived  to  visit 
his  son.  On  proceeding  to  the  house  of  the  latter  he  ia 
refused  entrance  by  the  servant,  who  declares  that  his  master's 
father  is  within.  The  old  man  from  Scienna  appears  on  the 
scene,  and  when  Philogano  protests  that  he  is  Erostrato '» 
father,  the  cook  at  length  drives  him  off.  When  the  feigned 
Erostrato  appears,  Philogano  at  once  recognizes  in  him  Dulipo, 
and  is  filled  with  fear  as  to  the  fate  of  his  son.  Dulipo,  how- 
ever, brazens  out  the  part  he  has  to  play,  and  Philogano  finally 
determines  to  apply  to  Oleander  for  help.  A  result  of  this  is- 
the  discovery  that  Dulipo  is  the  long-lost  son  of  Oleander,  who 
had  been  taken  prisoner  by  the  Turks  at  the  capture  of 
Otranto,  and  later  bought  by  Philogano.  The  recognition  is 
made  complete  by  the  fact  that  Dulipo  has  known  his  mother's 
name,  and  had  a  mole  on  his  left  shoulder.  The  explanation 
and  happy  conclusion  follow  swiftly.  The  real  Erostrato  is  to 
marry  Polynesta  with  the  consent  of  both  Damon  and  Philo- 
gano, while  Oleander,  rejoicing  in  his  son  so  unexpectedly 
found,  withdraws  his  claims  to  the  young  woman,  and  gives 
his  blessing  to  his  rival. 

The  origin  of  the  plot  is  fairly  clear.  Erostrato 's  changing 
places  with  his  servant  in  order  to  arrive  at  the  enjoyment  of 
his  mistress  is  imitated  from  the  Eunuchus  of  Terence,  though 
with  a  difference,  while  the  self-sacrifice  and  devotion  of  the 
young  slave,  who  turns  out  to  be  a|!  freeman  and  the  son  of  a 
wealthy  father,  is  practically  the  situation  presented  in  the 
Captivi  of  Plautus.  The  flouting  and  driving  away  of 
Philogano  from  his  son's  house  suggests  the  similar  scene  in 
the  Amphitruo,  where  the  master  is  driven  from  his  own  house 
as  an  impostor.    To  connect  the  plot  with  that  of  the  Menaech^ 


66  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

mi,  however,  as  Reinhardstoettner  does^  is  not  admissible,  for 
the  mistaken  identity  on  which  the  whole  similarity  rests  is 
common  to  a  number  of  Plautus's  dramas.  The  whole  air  of 
the  piece  is  purely  that  of  the  world  of  Eoman  comedy.  In 
Pasiphilo  we  have  the  greedy  parasite  who  flatters,  seeks  din- 
ners, and  is  the  friend  of  whichever  rival  will  feed  him.  The 
clever,  intriguing  servant  manages  everything,  while  his 
master  sits  down  and  bemoans  his  lot,  begging  his  slave  to 
revive  him ;  the  latter  is  a  man  of  infinite  resource  and 
addresses  his  master  in  a  tone  of  half -respectful  superiority." 
Many  references  or  situations  may  also  be  paralleled  in  Plautus, 
e.g.,  the  references  to  the  exactions  of  custom-house  officers,' 
the  knocking  at  the  gate  until  it  is  almost  broken  down,*  the 
parasite's  superintending  the  preparations  in  the  kitchen,^  the 
cook's  enumeration  of  dishes,**  the  reference  to  escape  from 
shipwreck.^  The  discovery  of  the  long-lost  child  by  the  inevi- 
table mole  on  the  left  shoulder  is  frequently  met  with  in 
Plautus,  and  the  central  comic  principle,  viz.,  the  mistaking 
of  one  person  for  another  owing  to  some  thin  disguise,  is  per- 
haps the  commonest  of  comic  motifs  in  the  ancient  drama. 
The  frequent  directions  for  improvisation  may  perhaps  be  con- 
sidered as  one  of  the  features  of  Italian  drama  derived  from  the 
commedia  delV  arte,  now  first  introduced  into  England.  In 
later  English  plays  such  a  practice  was  by  no  means  uncom- 
mon,— we  have  an  example  in  The  Birthe  of  Hercules — and 
there  can  be  little  doubt  as  to  its  origin. 

Promos  and  Cassandra,^  from  which  Shakspere  took  the 
plot  of  Measure  for  Measure,  was  printed  in  1578,  and  was 
founded  on  a  novel  from  La  Seconda  Parte  degli  Hecatommithi 
di  M.  Oiovanbatista  Giraldi  Cinthio.  The  source  of  the 
Plautine  influence  upon  the  play,  which,  as  we  shall  see,  was 
comparatively  slight,  it  is  not  possible  to  locate.  The  author, 
George  Whetstone,  may  have  incorporated  the  Latin  char- 
acteristics as  a   result  of  his   direct   acquaintance   with   the 

»  Reinhardstoettner,  Plautus,  p.  332. 

«  Cf.,  e.g.,  the  similar  relations  between  Pseudolus  and  Calidorus  in  the 
Pteudolua. 

*  Of.  the  similes  in  Aainaria,  Act  I,  pafsim.  Also,  cf.  reference  in  Trinummvs, 
toward  end  of  Act  III,  Sc.  iv.  "^ 

*  Cf.  Moatellaria,  Act  II,  Sc.  i. 

»  Cf.  Captivi,  Act  IV,  Sc.  iii,  and  Act  V,  Sc.  i. 

•  Cf.  Captivi,  Act  IV,  Sc.  ii. 

»  Cf.  Trinummus,  Act  IV,  Sc.  i,  and  MoateUaria,  Act  II,  Sc.  1. 

•  ahakespeare'8  Library,  ed.  Hazlitt,  Vol.  VI. 


THE  INFLUENCE  FROM  ITALY  67 

works  of  Plautus,  or  he  may  have  heen  influenced  by  that 
very  Italian  drama  the  effect  of  which  in  England  he  so  much 
deprecated.  Whetstone  was  a  warm  admirer  of  classic  regu- 
larity in  the  drama,  and  had  an  intense  dislike  of  the  "Roman- 
tic" vagaries  in  which  he  saw  most  of  the  writers  of  his  time 
indulging.  In  an  introductory  letter  to  his  friend,  William  Fleet- 
woode,  he  expounds  his  views — not  dissimilar  from  those  of  Sid- 
ney— adding  one  more  unavailing  obstacle  to  the  progress  of  the 
mighty  stream  of  tendency  which  was  about  to  reconstruct  the 
dramatic  ideals  of  the  world.  The  play  is  presented  in  two 
parts,  "for  that.  Decorum  used,  it  would  not  be  convayde  in 
one."  Speaking  of  his  moral  purpose  in  writing  the  play,  the 
author  says:  "And  to  these  ends:  Menander  Plautus  and 
Terence,  themselves  many  yeares  since  intombed  (by  their  Com- 
medies)  in  honour,  live  at  this  daye.  The  auncient  Romanes 
heald  these  showes  of  suche  prise,  that  they  not  onely  allowde 
the  publike  exercise  of  them,  but  the  grave  Senators  them- 
selves countenaunced  the  Actors  with  their  presence :  who  from 
these  trifles  wonne  morallytye,  as  the  Bee  suckes  the  honny 
from  weedes.  But  the  advised  devises  of  auncient  Poets,  dis- 
credited, with  the  tryfels  of  yonge,  unadvised  and  rashe  witted 
wryters,  hath  brought  this  commendable  exercise  in  mislike. 
For  at  this  daye,  the  Italian  is  so  lascivious  in  his  commedies, 
that  honest  hearers  are  greeved  at  his  actions :  the  Frenchman 
^nd  Spaniarde  f olowes  the  Italians  humor :  the  Germaine  is  too 
holye:  for  he  presentes  on  everye  common  Stage,  what 
Preachers  should  pronounce  in  Pulpets.  The  Englishman  in 
this  quallitie,  is  most  vaine,  indiscreete,  and  out  of  order:  he 
fyrst  groundes  his  worke  on  impossibilities:  then  in  three 
howers  roames  he  throwe  the  worlde :  marryes,  gets  Children, 
makes  Children  men,  men  to  conquer  Kingdomes,  murder 
monsters,  and  bringeth  Gods  from  Heaven,  and  f etcheth  Divels 
from  Hel.  And  (that  which  is  worst)  their  ground  is  not  so 
unperf ect,  as  their  working  indiscreete :  not  waying,  so  the 
people  laugh,  though  they  laugh  them  (for  theyr  folleys)  to 
Bcorne:  Manye  tymes  (to  make  mirthe)  they  make  a  Clowne 
companion  with  a  Kinge:  in  theyr  grave  Counsels,  they  allow 
the  advise  of  fooles:  yea,  they  use  one  order  of  speach  for 
all  persons:  a  grose  Indecorum,  for  a  Crowe,  will  yll  coun- 
terfet  the  nightingales  sweete  voice :  even  so  affected  speeche 
doth  misbecome  a  Clowne.     For  to  work  a  Commedie  kindly, 


68  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

grave  olde  men,  should  instruct :  yonge  men  should  showe 
the  imperfections  of  youth:  Strumpets  should  be  lasciv- 
ious: Boyes  unhappy:  and  Clownes,  should  be  disorderly: 
intermingling  all  these  actions,  in  such  sorte,  as  the  grave  mat- 
ter, may  instruct;  and  the  pleasant,  delight:  for  without  this 
chaunge,  the  attention;  would  be  small :  and  the  likinge,  lesse. '  * 
That  Whetstone  was  a  thorough-going  admirer  of  the  classics, 
and  of  classical  ideals  in  the  way  of  dramatic  work,  is  very 
clear,  and  it  is  no  less  evident  that  he  was  fully  alive  to  the 
importance  of  the  change  which  was  working  itself  out  in  the 
English  drama  of  his  time.  It  is  not  improbable  that  it  was 
as  an  example  of  what  he  considered  a  true  play  that  he 
wrote  Promos  and  Cassandra.,  for  it  certainly  had  not  been 
acted  several  years  after  appearing  in  print,  and  as  far  as  we 
know  has  never  attained  that  honor.  The  action  is  slow  and 
wearisome,  especially  in  the  second  part,  and  the  author's 
success  in  preserving  "Decorum"  has  evidently  made  it  impos- 
sible for  him  to  incorporate  more  desirable  qualities.  Although 
the  play  announces  itself  as  "divided  into  two  Commical 
Discourses"  the  comic  part  forms  only  a  very  small  portion 
of  the  whole,  unless  indeed  the  author  used  the  term  in 
reference  to  the  "happy  ending"  of  the  play.  The  relation 
to  Latin  comedy  consists  only  in  the  scenes  which  deal  with 
Lamia,  the  courtesan,  and  the  characters  who  centre  about 
her.  The  opening  speech  which  she  makes  at  the  beginning 
of  the  play  at  once  proclaims  her  the  stock  courtesan  and  pro- 
curess in  one.  A  maid  and  man-servant  report  to  her,  the 
latter  of  whom  is  closely  related  to  the  stock  parasite — being 
chiefly  concerned  as  to  the  getting  of  his  daily  bread.  Lamia 
gloats  over  the  fact  that  she  lives  in  such  luxury,  and  as  to  the 
question  of  who  pays  for  it, 

Thou  thy  selfe?  No  the  rushing  Youthes  that  bathe  in  wanton  blisse, 
Yea,  olde  and  doating  fooles  sometimes,  doo  helpe  to  paye  for  this. 

Her  absolutely  unfeeling  selfishness  is  constantly  exemplified. 
The  scene  in  which  the  maid-servant,  Dalia,  is  going  to  market 
to  prepare  for  a  dinner  (Part  I,  Act  IV,  Sc.  i)  is  very  suggest- 
ive of  the  general  situation  of  which  Plautus  has  numerous 
variations.  Dalia  is  very  similar  to  her  mistress  and  dispenses 
her  favors  only  for  a  money  consideration.  Slight  as  is  the 
part  played  by  these  characters  their  origin  is  perfectly  apparent. 


THE  INFLUENCE  FROM  ITALY  69 

and  the  mention  of  Menander,  Plautus,  and  Terence  in  the 
introductory  letter  is  unnecessary  to  direct  us  to  their  comedies 
for  the  prototypes  of  certain  scenes  of  Promos  and  Gassmidra. 
We  have  already  noticed  that  the  Plautine-Terentian  drama 
of  Italy  exercised  its  influence  upon  the  Latin  plays  produced 
in  the  English  universities.     From  no  other  source,  indeed,  did 
these  plays  derive  so  many  of  their  plots  and  leading  character- 
istics.    In  the  article  already  quoted  on  this  suhject,  after  a 
reference   to  the   ausserordentlich  reicJie  Ausbildung   of  the 
Plautine-Terentian  comedy  in  Italy,  we  are  told  that  unter  den 
Universitdtsstilchen    finden    wir  manche   Bearheitung    eines 
italienischen  VorUldes}    In  the  two  well-known  school  come- 
dies— the  Bellum  Grammaticale  and  the  Paedantius  (both  of 
which  are  mentioned  by  Sir  John  Harrington  in  his  Apology 
for  Poetry^  1591)  we  have  clear  traces  of  the  influence  of  Koman 
comedy,  though  it  is  not  clear  whether  this  influence  was  com- 
municated   through  an    Italian  or   a   German  medium.      In 
the  Bellum   Grammaticale  Hie   and  Ubique    are  the  hungry 
parasites,   and  each   mocks   the   other    with    regard    to    his 
insatiable  appetite.     In  the  Paedantiu^  we  have  a  parasite  and 
a  maid  who  has  to  be  bought  from  her  master,  while  the  central 
purpose  of  the  author  is  to  laugh  at  the  pedantry,  shallowness, 
and  vanity  of  the  schoolmaster.    We  thus  have  a  picture  which 
recalls  the  similar  one  in  the  Bacchides  of  Plautus.     Of  the 
plays  which  are  derived  directly  from   Italian  imitations   of 
Roman  comedy  the  following  are  the  chief : — ^ 
Laelia,*"  which  was  played  at  Queen's  College,  Cambridge,  in 
1590,  and  again  in  1598,  is  eine  lateinisclie  Bearbeitung  der 
Ingannati.     The  heroine    wears    male  attire  and  takes 
service  with  her  lover  in  order  to  overcome  the  obstacles  in 
the  way  of  their  passion  for  each  other.     (Compare  the 
situation  in  /  Suppositi  or  the  Eunuchus.)    The  general 
atmosphere  rather  than  any  particular  situation  of  Roman 
comedy  is  reproduced.     In  the  words  of  the  author  of  the 
article  before  referred  to.  Das  Lustspiel  ist  im  allgemeinen 
PlautiniscJi.     The  play  concludes : 

Honoratissimi  viri,  honoratissimi  inquam  et  gravissimi  viri 
Cum  meo  Cicerone  plausum  date  Vel  potiiis  cum  Plauto,  plaudite. 

»  Shakespeare  Jahrbuch,  Vol.  XXXIV,  p.  271. 

9/6ifl;.,p.  276. 

'  For  synopses  of  the  plays  v.  o;?.  dt. 

*  Op.  ciL,  p.  291. 


70  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

SilvanuSy^  which  was  played  at  Cambridge  in  1596,  contains, 
we  are  told,  viele  meist  wortliche  Nachahmungen  von 
Seneca^  auch  von  Plautus. 
Hispanus^  was  also  played  at  Cambridge  in  the  same  year.  It 
is  the  stock  situation — the  difficulty  of  getting  possession 
of  a  mistress — and  both  the  slaves  and  the  hungry  parasite 
play  their  parts.  Dass  die  Komodie  voll  Plautinischer 
Nachahmung  ist  geht  aus  ihrem  Inlialt  hlar  hervor. 
Dihtion  und  Humor  stammen  zum  grossten  Theile 
daher.'^^^ 
Leander,^  which  was  first  played  in  1598,  is  derived  from 
Giovanni  Battista  della  Porta' s  comedy  La  Fantesca^  which 
was  printed  at  Venice  in  1592. 
Labyrinthus,*  preserved  to  us  in  the  same  MS.,  and  played  in 
1602,  may  possibly  have  been  written  a  little  earlier.  It 
takes  its  plot  from  La  Cintia^  another  comedy  by  della 
Porta. 

In  both  the  above  plays  the    central    motif  is  the 
attempt  to  get  possession  of  a  mistress.     In  both  much 
of  the  complication   is  due  to  the  disguise  effected  by 
changing  clothes.     In  both  there  are  scenes  in  which  the 
servant  is  severely  beaten  by  his  master.     In  Laiyrinthus 
we  have  the  hungry  parasite. 
Zelotypus^  was  probably  played  between  1600  and  1603,  and  is 
derived  from   some  unknown  Italian   source.     Here  we 
have  the  stock  characters  of  hungry  parasite,  leno,  Una, 
and  meretrices.     The  husband  pretends  to  go  into   the 
country,  but  really  remains  to  spy  upon  his  wife ;  cf .  the 
somewhat  similar  situation  in  the  Mercator,^     The  wife, 
who  is  innocent,  complains  that  her  husband  tortures  her 
more  than  Amphitruo  did  Alcmena. 
It  is,  perhaps,  worth  while  to  notice  that  the  author  of 
Hymenaeus  (a  play  which  is  apparently  quite  unrelated  to  Roman 
comedy)  justifies  his  taking  a  plot  from  Boccaccio  by  the  exam- 
ple of  Terence:    haec  a  Bocatii  f alula  longe  magis  est  alia 
quant  a  Colace  Menandri  Eunuclius  Terentii. 

»  Op.  cit.,  p.  294. 
>  Op.  cit.,  I,.  300. 
s  Op.  cit.,  p.  303. 
*  Op.  cit.,  p.  308. 
»  Op.  cit.,  p.  313. 
«  Mercator,  Act  IV,  Sc.  iii. 


THE  INFLUENCE  FROM  ITALY  71 

In  the  development  of  early  English  dramatic  literature  the 
influence  of  Italian  plays  was  thrown  on  the  side  of  the  new 
Komantic  comedy,  and  of  the  English  plays  which  we  have 
considered  in  this  chapter  Promos  and  Cassandra  was  produced 
in  direct  protest  against  the  new  movement.  But  with  the 
beginning  of  the  last  decade  of  the  century,  when  classical 
drama  once  more  revived,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  reac- 
tionary movement,  initiated  by  the  direct  study  of  the  classics, 
was  largely  aided  by  the  acquaintance  which  Englishmen  had 
attained  with  Italian  dramas  informed  with  the  same  spirit. 


CHAPTER  VII 

shakspere's  predecessors 

Italian  literature,  then,  was  exercising  a  strong  influence 
over  that  of  England  at  this  period.  Collections  of  Italian 
novels  were  the  storehouses  from  which  many  dramatists  derived 
their  plots,  the  great  epics  of  Italy  were  translated  and  widely 
read  in  England,  and  Italian  dramas  were  both  translated 
and  imitated.  The  preponderating  weight  of  the  influence  of 
Italian  literature  was  not  on  the  side  of  the  classics.  The 
history  of  the  period  from  1580  to  1590  is  the  history  of  the 
early  growth  of  the  Romantic  drama,  and  although  the  ancient 
models  were  not  ignored,  it  is  rather  surprising  how  little  effect 
they  had  on  the  dramatic  work  of  men  whose  training  had 
been  derived  from  one  or  other  of  the  great  universities. 
Examples  are  by  no  means  lacking,  however,  especially  in 
the  period  immediately  preceding  the  beginning  of  the  ninth 
decade  of  the  century,  of  plays  which  clearly  enough  bear  the 
marks  of  contact  with  Latin  comedy.  Frequently  the  effect  of 
this  contact  was  very  slight,  as  in  the  case  of  a  number  of  plays 
which  do  not  fall  under  the  heading  of  any  previous  chapter  and 
which  we  may  briefly  refer  to  here,  before  considering  the  plays 
of  Lyly. 

Appius  and  Virginia,  which  was  printed  in  1575,  though 
probably  acted  as  early  as  1563,  and  which  is  more  of  a  Moral- 
ity than  a  historical  play,  contains  distinct  suggestions  of  the 
ancient  comedy.  Compare,  for  example,  the  slave's  anticipa- 
tion of  a  beating^  with  any  one  of  the  numerous  similar  reflec- 
tions of  the  slaves  of  Plautus.  The  Marriage  of  Wit  and  Science 
(licensed  1569-70),  the  five  acts  of  which  are  regularly  divided 
into  scenes,  contains  a  suggestion  of  the  motif  of  the  Amphi- 
truOy  viz.,  one  of  the  characters  being  in  doubt  as  to  his  own 
identity.^  The  Tancred  and  Gismunda  of  Robert  Wilmot, 
which  was  produced  in  1568,  and  which  was  revived  in  an 
altered  form  and  printed  in  1591,  contains  a  reference  to  the 

» HazUtt's  Dodsley,  Vol.  IV.,  pp.  121-123. 
9  Ibid.,  Vol.  II,  p.  379. 

72 


SHAKSPERE'S  PREDECESSORS  73 

story  of  the  Ampldtruo,  not  necessarily,  of  course,  but  probably 
■derived  from  Plautus : 

To  me  the  king  of  gods  and  men  doth  yield 
As  witness  can 


The  doubled  night,  the  sun's  restrained  course, 
His  secret  stealths,  the  slander  to  eschew, 
In  shape  transform'd,  we  list  not  to  discourse. 
All  that  and  more  we  forced  him  to  do.^ 

In  the  Camhises  of  Thomas  Preston,  entered  on  the  Stationers' 
Eegister  in  1569-70,  we  have  the  figure  of  the'*  miles  gloriosus** 
presented  in  Ruff,  Huff,  and  Snuff,  who,  however,  are  not  neces- 
sarily of  the  family  of  Pyrgopolinices  or  Thraso.  A  meretrix 
scene  presents  also  another  stock  character  of  Latin  comedy.* 
The  Rare  Triumphs  of  Love  and  Fortune  (1581)  contains  at  least 
one  stock  situation  of  Plautus — a  cudgeling  scene,^  and  one 
stock  character, — Penulo,  the  parasite,  who  in  his  faithfulness 
to  his  master  and  his  duplicity  toward  all  others  resembles  the 
faithful  slave  so  commonly  met  with  in  the  works  of  the 
Eoman  playwrights. 

The  only  author  of  the  period  whose  works  show  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Latin  comedy  to  any  marked  degree  is  John  Lyly. 
Like  Greene  he  could  write  himself  utriusque  academiae  in 
artibus  magister,  and  his  dramas  abound  in  classical  allusion 
and  quotation.  Many  of  the  figures  of  classic  myth  appear  as 
characters  in  his  works.  Though  his  knowledge  of  the  ancient 
authors  was  not  very  extensive  Mr.  Ward  has  pointed  out  that 
*'he  was  in  various  ways  and  degrees  indebted  in  style  and  in 
manner  to  Ovid,  Virgil,  and  Homer,  and  to  Caesar,  Cicero,  and 
Seneca."*  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  easy  colloquial 
prose  style  which  constitutes  his  chief  contribution  to  the 
development  of  comic  drama  owes  something  to  his  familiarity 
with  the  best  examples  of  Latin  colloquial  prose,  viz.,  the 
comedies  of  Plautus  and  Terence.  Several  of  his  plays  con- 
tain mere  allusions  to  some  character  "or  situation  of  Latin 
€omedy.  Sir  Tophas,  the  "miles  gloriosus"  of  E^idimion^^  has 
been  regarded  as  a  lineal  descendant  of  Pyrgopolinices,'  and  it 

»  Hazlitt's  Dodsley,  Vol.  VII,  pp.  28-29,  Act  J.  Sc.  j. 

«  Hazlitt's  Dodsley,  Vol.  IV,  p.  181  seq. 

9  lUd.,  Vol.  VI,  pp.  181-82. 

4  Op.  cit..  Vol.  I,  p.  2!7. 

6  The  Dramatic  Works  of  John  Lilly,  ed.  Fairholt,  1858,  Vol.  I. 

•  C5X.,  e.g.,  Ward's  Eng.  Dram.  Lit.,  Vol.  I,  p.  284. 


74  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

is  more  than  probable  that  Lyly  had  the  hero  of  Plantus's  play- 
in  mind.  Sir  Tophas's  falling  in  love  with  the  ugly  Dipsas 
may  have  been  suggested  by  the  last  ridiculous  situation  in 
which  Pyrgopolinices  is  placed.  But  it  is  well  to  remember 
that  the  tendency  to  find  Plautus  imitation  wherever  the  brag- 
gart soldier  is  portrayed  is  a  very  misleading  one.  In  the 
present  case  it  is  at  least  certain  that  TJier sites  furnished  the 
prototype  of  Sir  Tophas  to  a  much  greater  degree  than  did  the 
Miles  Gloriosus  of  Plautus,  and  we  have  already  concluded 
that  the  hero  of  the  English  farce  bears  no  relation  to  that  of 
the  Latin  play.  The  purely  farcical  portraiture  of  Sir  Tophas, 
together  with  the  fact  that  he  must  be  active  to  a  considerable 
extent  in  displaying  to  us  his  character,  since  he  has  no  con- 
venient parasite  on  whom  to  depend,  differentiates  him  at  once 
from  the  hero  of  Latin  comedy.  When  he  assures  us :  "Com- 
monly my  words  wound,"  and  when  he  refers  to  "the  ugly 
beast,  the  blackbird,"  "the  terrible  trout,"  and  announces 
himself  as  about  to  combat  with  "the  monster  Ovis" — a  black 
sheep — we  are  at  once  reminded  of  Thersites  and  his  encoun- 
ter with  a  snail.  The  idea  of  making  the  hero  ridiculous  in 
love  is  probably  drawn  from  Plautus,  but  surely  little  more 
than  the  idea.  Sir  Tophas  is  at  first  adamant,  his  valor  leaving- 
no  place  for  love ;  Pyrgopolinices  is  amorous  from  the  beginning, 
and  proud  of  his  easy  conquest  of  all  feminine  hearts.  When 
Sir  Tophas  does  fall  in  love  it  is  with  the  ugly  Dipsas,  and  he 
argues  that  old  women,  like  old  wine,  are  best;  Pyrgopolinices' 
discomfiture  is  the  result  of  deception,  which  has  been  practised 
upon  him,  and  he  is  called  upon  to  play  no  such  purely  farcical 
r61e  as  that  in  which  Sir  Tophas  reveals  himself.  In  Endimion 
the  scenes  relating  to  Sir  Tophas  are  almost  entirely  uncon- 
nected with  the  general  plot  except  at  the  close,  and  even  then 
only  in  the  most  artificial  way.  In  Act  V,  Sc.  ii,  the  enumera- 
tion of  dishes  at  the  banquet  recalls  similar  lists  in  Plautus, 
and  the  same  act  contains  one  quotation  from  the  Miles 
Gloriosus^ — viz.,  0  lepidum  caput!  The  last  line  of  Act  III, 
Sc.  iii,  viz.,  I prae  sequar,  is  the  last  line  of  the  Andria,  Act  I,. 
Sc.  i. 

In  Campaspe  we  have  a  suggestion  of  one  of  the  stock  char~ 
acters  of  Latin  comedy  in  the  figure  of  Lais,  the  courtesan, 

»  Miles  Gloriosus,  in,'i,  131.     Professor  Baker  is  wrong  in  assigning  this  quo- 
tation to  tlie  MoBtellaria.    V.  his  edition  of  Endymion,  p.  89. 


SHAKSPERE'S  PREDECESSORS  75 

who,  however,  does  little  but  rail  against  war,  which  deprives 
men  of  the  pleasures  of  peace.  She  also  directs  a  few  words  of 
scorn  to  Diogenes.  The  play  contains  two  references  to  the 
story  of  the  Amphitruo,  The  first  is  in  the  prologue,  and  con- 
sists of  a  single  line — "There  went  two  nights  to  the  begetting 
of  Hercules.'*  In  Act  III,  Sc.  i,  Apelles,  the  painter,  is  show- 
ing Campaspe  his  pictures : 

Apel.— This  is  Alcmena,  unto  whom  Jupiter  came  in  shape  of  Amphit- 

rion,  her  husband,  and  begate  Hercules. 
Camp. — A  famous  sonne,  but  an  infamous  fact. 
Apel. — He  might  doe  it,  because  he  was  a  God. 
Camp.— Nay,  therefore  it  was  evill  done,  because  he  was  a*God. 

Quite  frequently  in  Lyly's  plays  the  ready  wit  or  resourceful 
cleverness  of  some  character  recalls  vaguely  a  similar  character 
of  Latin  comedy.  In  the  words  of  Professor  Baker:  ''His 
pages  and  nimble-witted  youngsters  are  very  clever,  and  stand 
between  the  audacious  and  mendacious  slaves  and  boys  of 
Plautus  and  Terence,  and  the  wags  and  wits  of  Shakespeare."^ 
But  in  Mother  Bombie,  printed  in  1594,  we  have  a  comedy — 
almost  certainly  one  of  the  author's  latest  plays — in  which  the 
typical  situations  of  Latin  comedy  have  been  brought  together 
in  such  a  manner  that  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  imagine  the 
play  as  a  transcript  of  some  lost  comedy  of  Plautus.  The  plot, 
as  related  by  two  of  the  characters — Riscio  and  Dromio — in 
Act  V,  Sc.  iii,  and  amplified  by  Professor  Ward,*  I  give  here : 
*'  ^Mempliio  had  a  foole  to  his  sonne,  which  StelUo  knew 
not ;  StelUo  a  foole  to  his  daughter,  unknowne  to  MempJiio;  to 
coosen  each  other  they  dealt  with  their  boies  [i.e.,  servants]  for 
a  match  [in  other  words,  they  tried  with  the  help  of  their 
servants,  each  to  palm  off  his  foolish  child  upon  the  supposed 
sensible  child  of  the  other] ;  wee  [the  servants]  met  with  Lucio 
and  HaJfepenie  [two  other  serving-men]  who  told  the  love 
betweene  their  master's  children  [Accius  and  Silena],  the 
youth  deeply  in  love,  the  fathers  unwitting  to  consent  .  .  . 
then  wee  foure  met,  which  argued  wee  were  no  mountaines; 
and  in  a  taverne  wee  met,  which  argued  wee  were  mortall ;  and 
everie  one  in  his  wine  told  his  dayes  worke,  which  was  a  signe 
wee  forgot  not  our  businesse;  and  seeing  all  our  masters 
troubled  with  devises,  we  determined  a  little  to  trouble  the 

»  Lyly'8  Endymion,  ed.  Baker,  p.  clxxxvi  (Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  1894). 
«  Sng.  Dram.  Lit.,  Vol.  I,  p.  300. 


76  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

water  before  they  drunke ;  so  that  in  the  attire  of  your  chil- 
dren, our  masters'  wise  children  bewrayed  their  good  nature 
[i.e.,  proved  themselves  the  fools  they  were];  and  in  the  gar- 
ments of  our  masters'  children  yours  made  a  marriage;  this  all 
stood  upon  us  poore  children,  and  your  young  children,  ta 
shew  that  old  folkes  may  be  overtaken  by  children.' 

*'To  which  it  has  only  to  be  added  that  the  two  foolish  chil- 
dren, Accius  and  Silena,  in  the  end  turn  out  to  be  brother  and 
sister,  changelings  foisted  upon  Memphio  and  Stellio  by  Vicina, 
who  has  brought  up  their  actual  children,  Maestius  and  Serena, 
as  her  own,  and  as  brother  and  sister,  and  has  thus  impeded 
the  solution  which  satisfies  the  actual  state  of  the  case."^ 

The  correspondence  with  stock  situations  of  Roman  comedy 
is  sufficiently  evident.  Memphio  will  send  his  wife  to  his 
country-house  in  order  that  she  may  not  disarrange  his  plans. 
Compare  this  with  the  Mercator^  Act  IV,  Sc.  iii,  where  Dorippa 
suddenly  returning  from  the  country  overturns  the  arrange- 
ments of  Lysimachus,  her  husband.  The  love  affairs  of  the 
son  are  furthered  by  the  clever  servant  contrary  to  the  wishes 
of  the  father,  who  is  deceived  throughout.^  The  marriage  of 
the  foolish  son  and  daughter — each  to  a  supposedly  sane  per- 
son— is  made  possible,  and  the  fathers  are  to  be  completely  hood- 
winked, by  the  simple  expedient  of  changing  clothes.^  The 
motif  of  the  long-lost  children  found  at  last,  and  in  love,  so 
that  they  are  happy  ever  afterwards  is  a  common  one  in 
Plautus.*  In  Mother  BomMe,  as  very  generally  in  Latin 
comedy,  the  distinguishing  mark  by  which  both  the  children 
are  recognized,  is  a  mole.  The  regular  reward  of  the  clever 
intriguing  servant  who  has  carried  through  his  master's 
schemes  to  a  successful  issue,  viz.,  that  he  be  given  his  liberty, 
or  at  least  some  great  favor,^  is  likewise  granted  in  Lyly's  play. 
The  idea  of  a  proposed  marriage  being  frustrated  by  the  dis- 
covery that  the  contracting  parties  are  in  reality  brother  and 
sister  finds  a  parallel  in  the  situation  presented  in  the  Epidicus. 
In  a  word,  almost  every  important  situation  of  the  whole  play, 
except  those  which  deal  with  the  old  woman  who  gives  the 
comedy  its  name,  may  be  paralleled  in  the  work  of  Plautus. 

»  Ward,  Hist.  Eng.  Dram.  Lit.,  Vol.  I,  p.  300. 

'  Cf.  the  similar  situations  in  Mercator,  Epidicus,  etc. 

8  Cf.  the  similar  situations  in  Eunuchus,  Casina,  Captivi,  etc. 

*  Cf.  the  similar  situations  in  Poenulus  and  Rudens. 

*  Cf.  the  similar  situations  in  Fseudolus,  Epidicus,  Stichus,  etc. 


SHAKSPERE'S  PREDECESSORS  77 

It  has  been  already  stated  that  Latin  comedy  exercised  but 
little  influence  on  the  English  drama  of  the  period  between 
1580  and  1590.  It  was  not  by  any  means  because  Plautus  and 
Terence  had  fallen  into  oblivion ;  occasional  suggestions  in  the 
plays  themselves  and  frequent  references  to  the  Latin  play- 
writers  or  some  of  their  characters  in  the  non-dramatic  works 
of  the  period  abundantly  testify  to  the  familiarity  of  the 
authors  with  this  branch  of  classical  literature.  In  the  intro- 
duction to  his  edition  of  the  Endymion  Professor  Baker  says ; 
** Moreover  if  the  intentionally  amusing  scenes  of  Lyly  are  com- 
pared with  those  in  other  plays  from  1580  to  1590  it  will  at 
once  appear  that  in  most  of  the  plays  of  other  writers,  the 
comedy,  where  it  is  not  a  somewhat  clumsy  copy  of  scenes  in 
Plautus  or  Terence,  is  coarseness  or  horse-play."^  Of  coarse- 
ness and  horse-play  there  is  indeed  plenty,  but  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  point  out  scenes  in  any  play  written  drying  the 
decade — except  those  of  Lyly — which  may  be  called  even 
clumsy  copies  of  Plautus  or  Terence.  The  explanation  is  to  be 
found  in  the  surprising  strength  which  was  suddenly  attained 
by  the  new  Romantic  drama.  Lyly's  works  smacked  very 
slightly  of  Latin  comedy  till  near  the  close  of  his  career  as  a 
writer  of  plays,  and  we  shall  have  occasion  to  note  how 
Mother  Bornbie  takes  its  place  as  an  early  example  of  the 
reactionary  movement  which  began  with  the  first  years  of  the 
last  decade  of  the  century,  and  which,  under  the  protection  of 
its  great  high  priest,  Ben  Jonson,  was  to  go  on  side  by  side 
with  the  dominant  Romantic  drama,  and  to  produce  some  of 
the  minor  classics  of  English  literature. 

At  no  previous  period  had  the  interest  in  the  works  of 
Greece  and  Rome  been  greater  than  in  the  decade  we  are  con- 
sidering. The  works  of  writers  in  every  department  of  litera- 
ture abound  in  references  to  the  writings  or  myths  of  the 
ancient  world,  and  translators  of  the  classics^  were  placed  quite 
on  a  level  with  the  authors  of  original  works.  Nor  in  this 
universal  enthusiasm  for  classical  literature  was  the  drama  of 
Rome  forgotten.  In  1575  and  1581  new  and  enlarged  editions 
of  UdalPs  selections  from  Terence  were  issued  by  John  Higgins. 
In  1581  a  complete  edition  of  all  the  previously  translated 

*  Lyly's  Endymion,  ed.  Baker,  p.  clxxxv. 

«  For  list  of  translations  made  at  this  period  v.  Warton,  op.cit.,  Vol.  IV,  p.. 
281  seq. 


78  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

single  plays  of  Seneca  was  printed  under  the  title :     Seneca  his 
tenne   Tragedies  translated  into  Englysh.     Mercurii  Nutrices 
horae.     1581.     The  interest  bestowed  on  many  of  these  works 
is  attested  by  the  fierceness  of  the  denunciations  showered  on 
them  by  their  opponents.     Prynne  tells  us  that  the  Puritan 
leaders  of  Elizabeth's  reign  forbade  all  Christians  'Ho  pen,  to 
print,  to  sell,  to  read,  or  schoole-masters  and  others  to  teach, 
any    amorous    wanton    Play-bookes,    Histories,    or    Heathen 
authors,  especially  Ovids  wanton  Epistles  and  Bookes  of  Love, 
Catullus,  Tibullus,  Propertius,  Martial,  the  comedies  of  Plau- 
tus,  Terence  and  other  such  amorous  bookes  .  .  ."^     Stephen 
Gosson,  in  his  School  of  Abuse,  rails  against  Latin  comedy  in 
general,  and   has  a  contemptuous  reference  to  *'some  Arch- 
player  or  other  that  hath  read  a  little  or  stumbled  by  chance 
upon  Plautus  comedies."     On  the  next  page  is  a  reference  to 
the   Curculio.^     Gabriel  Harvey  calls  attention   to   the  Latin 
play  writers  occasionally.     Compare,  e.g.,  the  letter  to  Imme- 
rito,  written  in  1580,  in  which  "for  conceyt  of  Witte  and 
eloquent   decyphering   of    matters"   he    selects   Plautus   and 
Terence  as  representative  in  Latin  literature.     Compare,  too, 
his  reference  to  "the  comedie  of  Adelphi  or  the  two  Asses:  a 
more  notable  Pageant,  than  the  Interlude  of  the  two  Sosias,  or 
the  two  Amphitryos,  or  the  two  Menechmi,  or  the  two  Martin 
Guerras."^     All  the  writers  on  the  art  of  poetry  cite  examples 
from  Latin  comedy.     Sidney,  perhaps  the  warmest  admirer  of 
the  classics  in  his  own  day,  and  the  most  ardent  advocate  of 
the   adoption   of    classical   standards  in    the    drama,   in    his 
Apologie  for  Poetry  refers  to  the  authorship  of  the  Heauton- 
timorumenos,*'  to  Thraso,*  to  the  question  of  the  observation 
of  the  unity  of  time  in  Plautus   and  Terence,*  and  to  the 
mingling  of  tragedy  and  comedy  in  the  AmphitruoJ    A  great 
part  of  the  first  book  of  Puttenham's  Arte  of  English  Foesie 
(1 584-88)  is  devoted  to  an  examination  of  the  ancient  drama,  its 
characteristics,  and  the  manner  of  putting  plays  on  the  stage 
in   ancient   days.     In  Webbe's  Discourse  of  English  Poetrie 

»  mstriomastix,  1633,  pp.  913,  916  (quoted  by  Warton,  v.  iv,  p.  232). 

*  TJu  School  of  Abuse,  Arber's  Reprint,  pp.  30  and  81. 

»  The  Works  of  Gabriel  Harvey,  ed.  Grosart.    Pierce's  Supererogation,  Vol.  II, 
p.  250. 

*  Apologie  for  Poetry,  Arber's  Reprint,  p.  59. 
«  V.  p.  67. 

*  V.  p.  64. 
7  V.  p.  65. 


SHAKSPERE'S  PREDECESSORS  ro 

(1586)  there  is  a  reference  to  Plautus  and  Terence,  who  "have 
beene  ever  since  theyr  time  most  famous,  and  to  these  dayes 
are  esteemed  as  greate  helpes  and  furtheraunces  to  the  obtayn- 
ing  of  good  Letters.'*^  After  a  particularly  warm  commenda- 
tion of  Phaer,  Twyne,  Golding,  Googe,  Flemming  and  other 
translators  of  the  classics,  Webbe  answers  the  objections  which 
have  been  urged  against  Plautus  and  Terence  on  account  of  their 
immorality.*  His  chief  argument  is  the  quoting  of  Sir  Thomas 
Elyott's  translation  of  ''Plautus  in  commendations  of  virtue" 
in  the  AmpMtruo,  Terence  in  Bunuchus,  etc. 

In  both  the  dramatic  and  non-dramatic  works  of  the 
playwrights  similar  references  are  occasionally  found,  but  only 
in  the  writings  of  Greene  are  they  numerous.  In  the  Orlando 
Furioso  he  speaks  of  Hercules  as  Alcme-na's  child,  and  in 
Alphonsus,  Kiiig  of  Ar agon  we  find  the  passage 

Nor  do  I  come'as  Jupiter  did  erst 
Unto  the  palace  of  Amphitryon 
For  any  fond  or  foul  concupiscence 
Which  I  do  bear  to  Alcumena's  love.' 

although,  of  course,  neither  of  these  passages  necessarily 
derive  from  Plautus 's  comedy.  In  The  Garde  of  Fancie  a  char- 
acter from  one  of  Terence's  plays  is  cited  for  the  purpose  of 
developing  a  rather  elaborate  simile,*  and  a  similar  figure  in 
the  same  work  is  to  the  effect  that  "like  Menechmus  Subreptus 
his  wife  thou  doest  not  begin  to  love,  ere  again  thou  seekest  to 
hate.'"^  In  Tlie  Royal  Exchange,  printed  in  1590,  we  have  a 
reference  to  "Parrasites  such  as  Terence  and  Plautus  discovers 
in  their  Comedies,  hange  theyr  freendshippe  at  the  Tables 
ende,  and  theyr  loyaltie  at  the  Caters  basket."*  In 
Francesco'' s  Fortunes  or  TJie  Second  Part  of  Greenes  Never  too 
late  a  detailed  account  is  given  of  the  characters  of  Grecian 
comedy,  together  with  its  purpose.  The  drama  of  Plautus  and 
Terence  is  similarly  treated,  and  also  the  vogue  and  decline  of 
comedy  in  Rome.'^  A  Quippe  for  an  Upstart  Courtier  has  the 
simile:     "But  as  these  upstart  changelings  went  strouting  like 

»  The  Arte  of  English  Poesie,  ed.  Haslewood,  pp.  29,  30. 

•  Op.  cit.,  p.  43. 

•  The  Complete  Works  of  Robert  Greene,  ed.  Grosart,  Vol.  XIII,  p.  234. 
«  V.  Vol.  IV,  p.  17. 

»  V.  Vol.  IV,  p.  61. 

•  V.  Vol.  VII,  p.  243. 

T  V.  Vol.  vm,  p.  129  seq. 


80  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

Phjlopolimarchides  the  bragart  in  Plautus  .  .  ."^  These 
examples  will  serve  to  show  how  familiarly  Greene  knew  Latin 
comedy,  and  they  only  make  greater  the  wonder  when  we 
consider  how  free  his  dramatic  work  is  from  any  real  effect  of 
the  influence  thus  brought  to  bear  upon  him.  His  writings  are 
much  more  voluminous  than  are  those  of  the  other  "university 
wits,"  but  even  when  allowance  is  made  for  this,  his  references 
to  Plautus  and  Terence  are  much  more  frequent  than  in  the 
case  of  any  of  his  contemporaries.  In  Peele's  works  the  only 
influence  of  this  kind  I  have  noticed  is  in  The  Old  Wives  Tale, 
published  in  1595,  where  we  have  reference  made  to  **the  most 
famous  stock  of  Huanebango — Polimackeroeplacidus  my  grand- 
father, my  father  Pergopolineo,  my  mother  Dionora  de 
Sardinia  famously  descended. ' ' 

Do  you  hear,  sir?  had  not  you  a  cousin  that  was  called  Guste- 
ceridis? 

Indeed  I  had  a  cousin  that  sometime  followed  the  court  infortu- 
nately,  and  his  name  Bustegusteceridis.^ 

Dyce  pointed  out  that  **Here  Peele  seems  to  have  had  an  eye 
to  the  hard  names  in  the  Miles  Gloriosus  of  Plautus." 
Similarly  formed  words  are  also  to  be  found  in  the  Captivi, 
Act  II,  Sc.  ii,  and  Pseudolus,  Act  IV,  Sc.  ii,  and  the  origin  of 
the  words  manufactured  by  Peele  is  pretty  certainly  to  be 
found  in  some  of  these  formations  of  Plautus.  In  Marlowe's 
Jew  of  Malta  we  have  a  line  quoted  (not  quite  accurately)  from 
the  Andria,^  and  in  his  translation  of  Ovid's  Elegies  occur  the 
lines : 

Rude  Ennius,  and  Plautus  full  of  Wit, 
Are  both  in  Fame's  eternal  legend  writ.* 

Apart  from  these  references  there  is  little  evidence  in  any  of 
Marlowe's  works  that  he  had  even  read  Roman  comedy.  The 
rare  instances  in  which  other  playwrights  of  this  period  refer 
to  Plautus  or  Terence  or  their  dramas,  are  almost  all  in  works 
produced  toward  the  close  of  the  century,  and  will  be  noticed 
in  the  next  chapter. 

1  V.  Vol.  XI,  pp.  215,  216. 

*  The  Works  of  Peele,  ed.  BuUen,  Vol.  I,  p.  316. 

*  The  Works  of  Marlowe,  ed.  Bullen,  Vol.  II,  p.  18,  Ego  ndhimet  sum  temper  pro- 
admus.    Cf.  Andria,  IV,  i,  12,  Proximus  sum  egomet  mihi. 

*  Op.cU.,  Vol.  ni;  Elegia,  xv,  p.  137,  U.  19,  20. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  LAST  DECADE  OF  THE  CENTUEY 

The  chief  sin  of  omission  committed  by  the  early  authors  of 
Romantic  drama  consisted  in  their  comparative  indifference  to 
questions  of  plot  and  structure ;  their  sins  of  commission  con- 
stituted a  much  longer  category.  Their  excellences  at  best 
were  excellences  of  detail,  and  in  their  delight  over  these 
attainments  they  neglected  the  weightier  matters  of  dramatic 
law.  In  almost  every  one  of  the  fin  de  siecle  playwrights 
there  is  to  be  seen  a  straining  after  novel  and  unnatural  effects ; 
to  men  like  Sidney  and  Ben  Jonson  Romanticism  in  its  initial 
stages  was  practically  synonymous  with  unreal  vagaries  and 
irresponsible,  inartistic  crudeness  of  representation.  The  roles 
played  by  actors  like  Tarlton  and  Kemp  and  the  popularity 
and  reputation  acquired  by  their  impromptu  witticisms, 
together  with  the  frequent  directions  for  improvisation,  in. 
which  the  dramas  of  the  period  abound,  tell  no  uncertain  tale 
as  to  the  indifference  of  authors  to  their  works  from  the  stand- 
point of  literature  as  a  fine  art.  No  single  one  of  the  unities  was 
treated  with  even  courteous  consideration.  That  in  the  ideal 
play,  or  act,  or  scene,  every  detail  should  contribute  to  the 
realization  of  the  central  artistic  purpose  was  an  idea  which 
seems  never  to  have  occurred  to  them.  Their  interest  was  in 
other  things.  The  Elizabethan  age  was  one  of  intense  curiosity 
regarding  the  world  and  all  its  wonders,  but  it  was  primarily  a 
curiosity  regarding  fact  and  incident  rather  than  the  more 
general  philosophic  interest  which  concerns  itself  with  the 
world-old  problems  of  existence  or  the  multitudinous  variety  of 
human  nature.  Accordingly  we  have  presented  horrible  mur- 
ders, bloody  battles,  ghosts,  daggers,  poison ;  or  again,  strange 
accounts  of  the  natural  wonders  of  foreign  lands, — as  in  Lyly's 
"unnatural  natural  history," — accounts  of  incredible  feats  of 
gallantry  or  chivalry,  and  impossible  escapades  of  all  sorts. 
For  the  ordinary  scale  according  to  which  every-day  affairs  are 
measured,  is  substituted  one  characterized  by  largeness  or 
idealized  beauty;  a  fairyland  atmosphere  has  enveloped  inci- 

81 


82  THE   BIRTHE   OF  HERCULES 

dents  and  dramatis  personae  alike.  Hence  we  may  not  look 
here  for  accuracy  or  conviction  in  the  delineation  of  character. 
This  is  more  true,  to  be  sure,  of  some  individual  authors  and 
plays  than  of  others,  but  with  this  spirit  in  a  more  or  less 
diluted  form  the  whole  drama  of  the  period  was  informed.  In 
a  word,  the  Romantic  drama  is  dramatic  in  its  incident,  not 
in  its  characters.  From  contemporary  life  the  playwright 
seems  separated  by  an  unbridgeable  gulf,  except  when  he 
becomes  an  active  religious  or  political  partisan  and  degrades 
his  art  to  the  service  of  special  pleading.  Inadequate,  often 
Tv^holly  primitive  stage  apparatus  with  its  '^creaking  throne," 
** nimble  squib,"  "rolled  bullet,"  and  '* tempestuous  drum," 
did  not  contribute  to  the  relieving  of  the  sense  of  unreal- 
ity. Poetic  passages  of  exquisite  beauty  stand  on  the 
same  page  with  the  purest  rant,  and  in  tragedy  examples 
of  bathos  are  usually  not  far  to  seek.  The  comedies  of 
the  period,  especially,  showed  on  the  whole  much  crude- 
ness  and  coarseness,  great  lack  of  restraint  and  of  propor- 
tion. Professor  Herford  thus  sums  up  the  kind  of  humor 
at  which  they  had  arrived:  ** There  was  the  rough  native 
humour  of  the  professional  clown,  with  his  variant,  the 
Vice  of  the  Moralities,  the  humour  of  practical  jokes  and 
horseplay.  There  was  the  more  refined  humour  of  the  profes- 
sional jester,  becoming  normal  in  the  persistently  pointed 
dialogue  of  Lyly.  There  was  the  humour  of  accident,  confu- 
sions of  identity;  through  disguise  or  natural  likeness — the 
offspring  chiefly  of  Italian  novels.  .  .  .  There  was  lastly  the 
humour  of  mere  absurdity  and  ignorance,  that  of  the  clown 
by  nature,  not  by  profession."^  The  characters  of  comedy 
were  so  many  pegs  upon  which  to  hang  sallies  of  mirth  or 
coarse  jests.  That  anyone  should  speak  in  character  was  a 
minor  consideration,  and  accordingly  a  single  play  is  frequently 
a  gallimaufiy  of  farce,  improvisation,  and  brilliantly  clever 
dialogue.  In  short,  a  crude,  untutored  interest  in  wonders, 
surprises,  and  impromptu  sallies  of  fun  had  completely 
taken  the  place  of  a  more  cultivated  appreciation  of  dramatic 
art. 

Public  taste   would   have    been    in    an    unhealthy    state 
indeed  had  a  reaction  not  set  in,  and  that  before  any  great 

*  General  Introduction  to  the  Mermaid  edition  of  best  plays  of  Ben  Jonson, 
Vol.  I,  xv-xvi. 


THE  LAST  DECADE  OF  THE  CENTURY       83 

lapse  of  time.  The  primitive  character  of  the  most  highly 
esteemed  merits  of  the  majority  of  contemporary  comedies,  as 
well  as  their  consistent  ignoring  of  the  conditions  of  contem- 
porary life  and  the  primary  principles  of  art,  must  have  been  a 
source  of  constant  irritation  to  those  who  believed  that  the 
drama  should  be  an  artistic  creation  and  that  it  should  not  be 
absolutely  divorced — in  spirit  as  well  as  in  subject-matter — from 
the  experiences  and  interests  of  the  audience  before  which  it 
was  presented.  The  greater  part  of  the  last  decade  of  the 
century  may  be  looked  at  as  a  preparation  for  the  later  pro- 
nounced and  self-conscious  revolt  against  the  law-ignoring, 
inartistic,  undramatic  representations  then  in  vogue,  and  it  is 
in  that  light  that  we  shall  study  it  here. 

Once  granted  the  necessity  of  the  reaction  there  could  be 
but  little  question  as  to  the  manner  in  which  it  must  work 
itself  out.  All  modern  literary  movements  which  have  been 
instituted  in  conscious  opposition  to  prevailing  tendencies 
toward  heaping  up  promiscuous  beauties  to  the  neglect  of 
an  organizing  and  heightening  their  potency  by  allying  it 
to  beauty  of  form,  have  instinctively  turned  for  guidance 
and  teaching  to  the  finished  products  of  classical  art.  These 
have  remained  through  the  centuries  a  standard  of  excellence 
— limited  perhaps  in  its  conception,  but  perfect  after  its  kind — 
a  standard  to  test  the  formal  legitimacy  of  literary  art,  and  to 
recall  wanderers  from  straying  too  far  in  the  by-paths  of  unre- 
lated beauty.  In  the  movement  we  are  now  considering  the* 
natural  reversion  was  to  the  works  of  the  Latin  comedy -writers, 
and  in  no  previous  period  of  English  literary  history  had  the 
comedies  of  Plautus  and  Terence  received  so  great  attention. 
I  have  called  the  first  part  of  the  decade  a  preparation  for  tho 
revolt  announced  in  Ben  Jonson's  first  two  great  comedies,  and 
the  order  of  development  of  this  movement  toward  confessed 
imitation  of  Latin  dramatic  models  may  be  traced  with  a  fair 
degree  of  definiteness.  In  the  first  place  we  find  great 
activity  of  translation  going  on  side  by  side  with  frequent 
adaptations  of  Latin  comedy  or  some  of  its  characteristics  or 
motifs.  These  adaptations  were  not  at  all  in  the  spirit  of 
criticism  of  Romantic  comedy ;  they  often  partook  more  of  the 
nature  of  the  new  than  of  the  ancient  models.  But  with  the 
representation  of  Every  Man  in  His  Humour  in  1596  and  its 
publication  in  1598   the  overt   reaction   had  begun,   and   its 


84  THE   BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

precise  nature  had  been  loudly  heralded.     We  shall  consider 
briefly  these  different  phases  of  the  movement. 

No  comedy  of  Plautus  had  as  yet  attained  to  the  honor  of 
an  English  translation ;  the  first  extant  English  version  of  any 
of  his  plays  is  to  be  found  in  the  Menaechmi  of  W.  W., 
printed  in  quarto  in  1595.  That  this  translator,  as  Warton 
asserts,  was  William  Warner,  the  author  of  Albion's  Eng- 
land— and  in  this  Warton  has  been  quite  generally  followed 
by  later  writers — I  have  found  no  reason  to  believe  any 
more  than  that  he  was  identical  with  the  W.  W.  who  trans- 
lated Bandello's  Novelli,  or  William  Webbe,  who  translated 
the  Georgics  and  some  of  the  Bucolics,  The  Menaechmi  is 
the  only  extant  translation  of  a  comedy  of  Plautus  during 
the  sixteenth  century,  though  we  know  that  others  certainly 
were  translated.  Preceding  W.  W.  's  version  of  the  Menaechmi 
is  a  note  of  *'the  Printer  to  the  Headers"  to  the  effect 
that  "the  writer  hereof  (loving  Readers)  having  diverse  of  this 
Poettes  Comedies  Englished,  for  the  use  and  delight  of  his 
private  friends,  who  in  Plautus  owne  words  are  not  able  to 
understand  them :  I  have  prevailed  so  far  with  him  as  to  let 
this  one  go  farther  abroad,  for  a  publike  recreation  and  delight 
to  all  those,  that  affect  the  diverse  sorts  of  bookes  compiled  in 
this  kind,  whereof  (in  my  judgment)  in  harmelesse  mirth  and 
quicknesse  of  fine  conceit,  the  most  of  them  come  far  short 
of  this."^  There  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt,  then,  that  the 
translator  of  the  Menaechmi  also  translated  others  of  Plautus 's 
comedies,^  though  there  is  no  record  of  any  others  having  been 
printed.  Warton  tells  us  that  *' Tanner  says  he  [W.  W.]  trans- 
lated but  not  printed  all  Plautus. — MS8.  Tann.  Oxon.''''^  In 
the  same  note  Warton  speaks  of  the  translations  of  Terence : 
*'Rastall  printed  Terens  in  English,  that  is,  the  Andria.  There 
is  also  Andria,  the  first  Comedy e  of  Terence,  by  Maurice  Kyffin, 
1588.  .  .  .  The  Eunuchus  was  entered  at  Stationers'  Hall  to 
W.  [Leake]  in  1597,  and  the  Andria  and  Eumichus,  in  1600. — 
Registr.  C,fol.20,a.'*''  To  this  list  it  might  be  added  that 
portions  of  Terence  which  Udall  had  edited  and  translated 
in  1533,  "doubtless  for  the  benefit  of  the  scholars  at  Eton,"* 

»  Shake8peare'8  Library,  Hazlitt,  Vol.  V,  p.  3. 

8  The  question  as  to  whether  The  Birthe  of  Hercules  may  not  jxjssibly  have  been 
one  of  these  will  be  discussed  in  another  connection. 
»  Op.  cit.,  Vol.  IV,  p.  323,  note. 
*  Hazlitt,  Schools,  School-books  and  School-masters,  p.  91. 


THE  LAST  DECADE  OF  THE  CENTURY       85 

were  reprinted  with  additions  by  Higgins  in  1575  and  1581. 
It  is  thus  evident  that  there  was  no  lack  of  activity  in  the  way  of 
translating  the  Latin  comedy. 

The  relation  of  the  translation  of  the  Menaechmi  to  its  origi- 
nal is  very  simple,  and  is  aptly  enough  described  in  the  printer's 
word  of  introduction  as  "neither  so  exactly  written  as  it  may 
carry  any  name  of  a  Translation,  nor  such  libertie  therein  used, 
as  that  he  would  notoriously  varie  from  the  Poets  owne  order." 
The  translator  varies  neither  notoriously  nor  otherwise  from  the 
order  of  Plautus's  play,  the  latter  being  followed  exactly  and 
scene  by  scene.  But  scarcely  a  single  passage  of  any  length  is  a 
literal  translation.  The  essence  of  each  Latin  scene  is  preserved 
in  a  much  curtailed  form,  the  translation  being  of  the  freest  kind. 
On  the  other  hand  the  variations  from  the  substance  of  the  origi- 
nal text  are  few,  slight,  and  unimportant,  and  the  printer's 
asterisk — the  meaning  of  which  is  that  *' where  you  finde  this 
marke,  the  Poets  conceit  is  somewhat  altred,  by  occasion  either 
of  the  time,  the  country,  or  the  phrase" — is  called  into 
requisition  but  seldom.  The  nature  of  the  liberties  thus  taken 
with  the  original  may  be  seen  in  the  passage  in  which  for  the 
list  of  Koman  dishes  we  have  substituted  *'some  oysters,  a 
mary-bone  pie  or  two,  some  artichockes,  and  potato  rootes." 

In  Nashe^s  Lenten  Stuff e  (1599)  we  have  the  following 
passage^:  **Plautus  in  his  Rudens  bringeth  in  fishermen 
cowthring  and  quaking  dung  wet  after  a  storme,  and  com- 
plaining their  miserable  case  in  this  forme,  Captamus  cihum  e 
mari,  si  eventus  non  venit,  neque  quicquam  captum  est  piscium, 

»  The  Complete  Works  of  Thomas  JVashe,  ed.  Grosart  (Huth  Library)  Vol.  V,  p. 
305.  Nashe  seems  to  have  known  Plautus  particularly  well.  In  his  address  "to 
the  gentlemen  students  of  both  universities,"  one  of  his  earliest  works,  he  had  ridi- 
culed the  "  Thrasonical  huff-snuff"  style,  and  he  tells  us  in  his  Lenten  Stuff e  that  in 
style  he  had  endeavored  to  be  Italianate,  and  "of  all  styles  I  most  affect  and  strive 
to  imitate  Aretine's. "  His  references  to  Latin  comedy  are  numerous.  In  The  Unfor- 
tunate Traveller  {Jack  Wilton)  [ed.  Gosse,  pp.  83-86],  published  in  1594,  there  is  a 
ridiculous  account  of  the  manner  in  which  the  students  at  Wittenberg  played  the 
Acolastus.  This  was  followed  by  disputations,  and  here  was  present  "that  abun- 
dant scholler  Cornelius  Agrippa,"— "  the  greatest  conjurer  in  Christendome."  The 
doctors  wished  to  see  him  "doe  something  extraordinarie  memorable,"  and  "one 
requested  to  see  pleasant  Plautus,  and  that  he  would  shew  them  in  what  habite  he 
went,  and  with  what  countenaunce he  lookt,  when  he  ground  come  in  the  mill."  In 
Four  Letters  Confuted  he  tells  us  that  "Plautus  personated  no  parasite ^but  he 
made  him  a  slave  or  a  bondman"  (Vol.  II,  p.  216) ;  in  the  same  work  occurs 
the  passage:  "Thou  hast  arrogated  to  thy  selfe  more  than  Lucifer,  or  any  Miles 
Gloriosus  in  the  worlde  would  doe, "  (p.  273).  In  Have  with  you  to  Saffron  Walden 
he  speaks  of  ''scelerata  sinapis  shrewish,  snappish  mustard  as  Plautus  calls  it," 
(Vol.  Ill,  p.  43).  Mere  references  to  both  Plautus  and  Terence  are  very  common  iu 
his  work. 


86  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

salsi  lauiiq,  domum  redimus  clanculum  dormimus  incaenatum: 
All  the  meate  that  we  eate  we  catch  out  of  the  sea,  and  if 
there  we  misse,  wel  washed  and  salted,  wee  sneake  home  to 
bed  supperlesse :  and  upon  the  taile  of  it  hee  brings  in  a  para- 
site that  flowteth  and  bowrdeth  them  thus :  Heus  vos  familica 
gens  hominum  ut  vivitis  ut  peritis?  hough,  you  hunger  starved 
gubbins  or  offalles  of  men,  how  thrive  you,  howe  perish  you ; 
and  they  cringing  in  their  neckes,  like  rattes  smoothered  in  the 
holde,  poorely  replicated,  Vivimus  fame  speq.j  sitiq.^  with 
hunger,  and  hope,  and  thirst  wee  content  ourselves. "  But  as 
has  been  already  said  no  other  extensive  translation  of  Plautus 
has  come  down  to  us  from  this  period. 

"We  shall  now  consider  certain  plays  which  are  either 
adaptations  of  the  comedies  of  Plautus,  or  which,  if  independ- 
ent in  plot,  go  back  to  the  same  source  in  some  important 
details  of  characterization  or  motiving.  The  first  of  these  we 
have  already  taken  up, — Lyly's  Mother  Bombie,  and  it  need  not 
detain  us  longer  in  this  connection.  We  shall  pass  on,  then, 
to  The  Comedy  of  Errors,  the  only  play  of  |^Shakspere  in 
which  he  has  drawn  to  any  considerable  extent  upon  a  comedy 
of  Plautus.^  The  immediate  source  of  Shakspere's  play  has 
never  been  conclusively  determined.  Collier's  conjecture  was 
that  the  old  play.  The  History  of  Error,  which  was  acted 
January  1,  1577,  had  also  been  an  adaptation  of  Plautus's 
Menaechmiy  and  had  furnished  to  Shakspere  the  ground  work 
of  his  plot.  Another  theory  is  that  the  translation  by  "W.  W., 
which  was  not  printed  till  1595  (TJie  Comedy  of  Errors  was 
probably  written  about  1591)  had  been  seen  by  Shakspere  in 
manuscript.     A  third  possibility  is  that  Shakspere  read  Plautus 

»  Shakspere's  indebtedness  in  this  particular  has  not  always  been  so  narrowly 
limited,  and  indeed  certain  slight  borrowings  are  not  far  to  seek.  The  names  of 
the  servants  Grumio  and  Tranio  in  Tfie  Taming  of  the  Shrew  were  in  all  probabil- 
ity derived  from  the  Mostellaria;  and  the  exact  corresjwndence  between  the  Hamlet 
line ''Assume  a  virtue  if  you  have  it  not,"  and  Amphitryon's  speech  to  Alcmena, 
Saltern  tute  si  pudoris  egeas  sumas  mutuum,  is  certainly  striking.  That  the  picture  of 
Falstaff  in  the  Merry  Wives  owes  anything  to  that  of  Pyrgopollnlces  there  is  little 
reason  to  believe,  and  if  we  accept  the  popular  story  of  the  hurried  composition  of 
the  English  play,  the  improbability  increases,  and  we  are  reminded  once  more  that 
there  are  other  portrayals  of  the  "miles  gloriosus"  than  the  type  depicted  by  Plautus. 
For  a  rather  questionable  list  of  examples  of  Shakspere'siindebtedness  to  Plautus, 
which  Includes  comparisons  between  Shylock  and  Euclio  in  the  Aulularia,  Prospero 
and  Daemones  in  the  Budens,  Pericles  and  Daemones,  and  TJie  Taming  of  the  Shrew 
and  the  Trinummus,  v.  Plautus  and  his  Imitators,  Quarterly  Review,  1891,  Vol.  11— a 
review  of  Reinhardstoettner's  work  on  Plautus.  V.  also  Reinhardstoettner's 
work  2?a««tm  in  the  division  assigned  to  English  literature  in  his  consideration  of 
each  of  the  plays  of  Plautus. 


THE  LAST  DECADE  OF  THE  CENTURY       87 

at  first  hand,  but  this  would  seem  the  least  plausible  way  of 
accounting  for  the  facts,  since  we  have  direct  evidence  of  his 
** small  Latin"  and  no  direct  evidence  tending  greatly  to 
modify  the  meaning  of  Jonson's  phrase.  Shakspere's  play  is  thus 
noted  in  the  Gesta  Grayorum^  under  date  a.d.  1594:  "After 
such  sports  a  Comedy  of  Errors  (like  to  Plautus  his  Me- 
naechmus)  was  played  by  the  players.  So  that  night  was  begun 
and  continued  to  the  end  in  nothing  but  confusion  and  errors ; 
whereupon,  it  was  ever  afterward  called  *The  Night  of 
Errors.'"^ 

The  connection  between  the  English  play  and  the  Me- 
naechmij  as  well  as  the  extent  to  which  Shakspere  bor- 
rowed from  Plautus,  will  become  clearer  from  a  brief  synopsis 
of  the  plot  in  each  case.  That  of  the  Menaechmi  is  as 
follows:  The  wife  of  a  Syracusan  merchant  gave  birth  to 
twin  sons,  so  similar  in  appearance  that  their  own  mother 
could  not  distinguish  the  one  from  the  other.  When  they 
were  seven  years  old  their  father  took  one  of  them,  Menaechmus 
by  name,  on  a  voyage  to  Tarentum.  Here  the  child  was 
stolen  and  carried  off  to  Epidamnus,  in  which  city  he  eventu- 
ally married  a  wealthy  wife,  who  proved  to  be  **a  shrew  but 
honest."  The  father's  grief  for  the  loss  of  his  child  was  so 
great  that  he  died,  and  their  grandfather  changed  the  name  of 
Sosicles,  the  remaining  twin,  to  Menaechmus—  the  name  borne 
by  the  child  which  had  been  stolen.  Menaechmus  Sosicles, 
having  grown  to  manhood,  sets  out  to  search  for  his  brother, 
and  with  his  servant,  Messenio,  finally  arrives  at  Epidamnus  in 
the  sixth  year  of  his  search.  Immediately  the  complications 
begin.  Menaechmus  of  Epidamnus  finds  the  society  of  Erotium, 
a  courtesan,  more  congenial  than  that  of  his  wife,  and  is  in  the 
habit  of  presenting  the  clothes  and  jewels  of  the  latter  to  his 
mistress.  A  dinner  prepared  for  him  at  the  house  of  Erotium 
is  eaten  ^by  his  brother,  and  many  ludicrous  incidents  take 
place,  in  which  the  chief  supplementary  characters  are 
Cylindrus,  a  cook;  Peniculus,  a  parasite;  Erotium;  a  doctor; 
and  the  wife  and  the  father-in-law  of  Menaechmus  of  Epidamnus. 
The  latter  is  at  length  adjudged  insane  by  the  doctor  and  the 
father-in-law,  and  is  carried  off  by  their  orders,  only  to  be 
rescued  by  Messenio,  who  thinks  to  aid  his  master.  Finally,  the 
clever  servant  divines  the  explanation  of  all  the  difficulties,  and 

»  Nichols,  Progresses  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  Vol.  II.    Gesta  Grayorum,  p.  16. 


88  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

manages  to  restore  concord  once  more.  For  his  services  he  is  given 
his  liberty,  and  Menaechmus  of  Epidamnus  resolves  to  sell  his 
possessions  and  to  accompany  his  brother  to  their  native  city. 
J7ie  Comedy  of  Errors  takes  over  the  general  situation  of 
long-separated  twin  brothers  meeting  under  such  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances, retains  the  figures ^of  the  wife  and  the  courtesan,  but 
introduces  the  father  and  mother  of  the  twins,  as  well  as  some 
merchants,  a  goldsmith,  the  wife's  sister,  and,  most  important 
of  all,  a  pair  of  twin  slaves.  An  outline  of  the  plot  is  as 
follows :  Aegeon,  a  merchant  of  Syracuse,  having  been  taken 
prisoner  in  Ephesus,  is  brought  before  the  Duke  and  condenmed 
to  death.  He  is  granted  a  respite,  however,  on  telling  his 
story.  His  wife  had  given  birth  to  twin  boys  exactly  alike,  at 
the  same  hour  that  another  pair  of  twin  boys  had  been  born  of 
a  bondwoman.  Aegeon  bought  the  latter  pair  to  serve  his 
sons,  but  somewhat  later  a  shipwreck  separated  him,  one  of  his 
sons,  and  one  of  the  slaves  from  his  wife,  the  other  son,  and  the 
other  slave.  The  sons'  names  are  Antipholus,  and  one  of  them 
is  now  of  Syracuse,  the  other  of  Ephesus — the  scene  of  the 
play ;  the  slaves  are  called  Dromio.  Antipholus  of  Syracuse 
and  his  servant  Dromio  come  to  Ephesus,  and  from  this  point 
on,  the  play  deals  with  the  many  possibilities  of  confusion 
resulting  from  the  inevitable  mistaking  of  one  brother  for 
another.  One  scene  (Act  III,  Sc.  i),  in  which  Antipholus  of 
Ephesus  and  his  servant  Dromio  are  flouted  and  refused 
entrance  to  their  own  house  by  the  other  Dromio,  whose 
master  is  enjoying  himself  within,  is  precisely  the  situation 
presented  in  the  Amphitruo,  with  the  exception  that  here 
everyone  is  deceived,  while  in  the  Latin  play  the  gods  are  of 
course  omniscient.  The  twin  slaves  occasion  many  more  per- 
plexities than  we  have  in  the  Menaechmi.  Dromio  of  Syracuse 
encounters  the  sweetheart  of  his  brother,  and  so  gets  into  diflSi- 
culties  exactly  similar  to  those  of  his  master.  The  scenes  with 
the  courtesan  in  the  Menaechmi  are  much  curtailed,  the  para- 
site, cook,  father-in-law,  doctor,  and  courtesan's  maid  are 
entirely  omitted,  and  the  wife  is  portrayed  as  being  much  less 
shrewish.  One  interesting  change  of  incident  is  her  bringing 
a  conjurer  to  exorcise  the  evil  spirit  which  she  believes  has 
taken  possession  of  her  husband.  At  the  close  all  the  charac- 
ters are  brought  together  before  an  abbey  in  which  Antipholus 
of  Syracuse  and  his  servant  have  been  compelled  to  take  refuge 


THE  LAST  DECADE  OF  THE  CENTURY       89 

from  the  mishaps  which  threaten  them.  Explanations  follow 
quickly.  Aegeon  recognizes  his  son,  and  the  abbess  turns  out 
to  be  the  long-lost  mother.  The  Duke  pardons  Aegeon  and 
there  is  general  rejoicing. 

It  will  readily  be  seen  that  Tlie  Comedy  of  Errors  is  a  much 
more  complicated,  and  perhaps  for  that  reason,  a  much  less 
probable  play  than  the  Menaechmi.  The  improbability,  how- 
ever, must  be  accepted  at  the  beginning,  and  after  that  is 
accomplished  it  causes  little  trouble.  The  movement  is  so 
rapid,  and  the  many  absurd  situations  which  are  possible  are 
so  perfectly  developed,  that  one  forgets  to  question  whether 
this  could  have  happened,  in  feeling  how  much  more  diverting 
is  each  succeeding  scene  than  was  its  predecessor.  Although 
the  general  plot  of  the  Menaechmi  is  taken  over,  and  a  few  of 
the  names  of  the  dramatis  personae  are  preserved,  compara- 
tively few  of  the  situations  due  to  mistake  are  reproduced,  and 
the  whole  play  is  recast  and  altered,  so  that  it  bears  but  little 
similarity  in  detail  to  that  on  which  it  was  modeled.  For 
instance,  the  courtesan  here  plays  a  strictly  minor  part  and  is 
very  little  in  evidence,  Antipholus  of  Syracuse  falls  in  love 
with  the  maiden  sister  of  his  brother's  wife,  and  new  incidents 
are  introduced  at  every  turn.  But  the  great  difference  consists 
in  the  introduction  of  the  twin  slaves  Dromio,  together  with 
the  father  and  mother  of  their  masters.  The  whole  play 
borders  closely  on  the  reductio  ad  ahsurdum  of  the  mistaken 
identity  motif,  and  is  never  very  far  from  farce,  but  in  its  kind 
it  is  certainly  inimitable.  That  the  scene  in  which  Antipholus 
of  Ephesus  is  refused  entrance  to  his  house  may  have  been 
originated  by  Shakspere  simply  as  a  development  of  the  general 
situation  is  quite  possible,  but  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  he 
must  have  been  familiar,  through  whatever  medium,  with  the 
similar  scene  in  the  Amphitruo.  The  correspondence  is  prac- 
tically perfect.  In  the  Latin  play  a  master  and  his  servant  are 
refused  admission  to  their  home,  are  flouted  and  finally  driven 
off  by  Mercury  playing  the  role  of  the  servant's  double,  while 
Jupiter  in  the  role  of  the  master's  double  is  enjoying  himself 
with  the  wife  of  the  latter.  In  The  Comedy  of  Errors  we  have 
exactly  this  situation,  except  that  the  intruding  master  and 
servant  are  mortals,  and  the  twin  brothers  respectively  of  those 
who  are  excluded.  It  would  seem  highly  improbable  that  so 
€xact  a  parallel  should  be  a  mere  coincidence. 


90  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

In  his  Manual  for  the  Collector  and  Amateur  of  Old  PlaySy 
Hazlitt,  following  Halliwell,  assigns  The  Birthe  of  Hercules  to 
the  period  "about  1590."  If  this  date  were  correct  we  should 
have  in  that  play  another  example  of  an  adaptation  nearly  one- 
third  of  which  is  entirely  original,  the  remainder,  however, 
showing  many  examples  of  almost  literal  translation.  But,  as 
we  shall  see,  there  are  a  number  of  reasons  for  assigning  the 
play  to  a  considerably  later  date,  and  as  an  analysis  of  it  is 
given  in  another  connection  we  shall  omit  it  here. 

In  May,  1595,  a  play  on  the  subject  of  Hercules  was 
brought  out  in  two  parts  by  Martin  Slaughter,  and  judging  by 
the  entries  in  Henslowe'^s  Diary ^^  was  very  successful.  In  Hens- 
lowe's  "Note  of  all  suche  bookes  as  belong  to  the  Stocks  and 
such  as  I  have  bought  since  the  3d  of  March  1598,"  occur  both 
the  "1  p*  of  Hercules"  and  the  "2  p**  of  Hercoles."*  Neither 
of  these  has  been  preserved,  and  there  is  no  account  of  their 
having  been  printed.  In  1613  Thomas  Hey  wood  printed  TJie 
Silver  Age  and  The  Bronze  Age,  the  segond  and  third  of  his 
series — The  Golden,  Silver,  Bronze,  and  Iron  Age.  TJie  Golden 
Age  had  been  printed  in  1611,  but  Mr.  Ward  surmises  that  the 
whole  series  belongs  "to  an  early  period  in  Hey  wood's  career."' 
It  has  also  been  held  that  Heywood's  Silver  Age  was  based  on 
Slaughter's  play,  and  that  the  former  may  have  been  produced 
shortly  after  the  appearance  of  the  Hercules  in  1595.  Be  that 
as  it  may,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  TJie  Silver  Age,  if  it  does 
not  fall  within  the  actual  period  we  are  considering,  was 
written  at  a  time  but  little  posterior  to  the  close  of  the 
century,  and  this  fact  may  justify  a  consideration  of  the 'play 
at  this  point,  though  the  accurate  determination  of  the  date  of 
its  production  is  at  present  impossible. 

The  full  title  of  Heywood's  play  is  The  Silver  Age — 
including  the  love  of  Jupiter  to  Alcmena,  Tlie  Birthe  of  Hercules, 
and  The  Rape  of  Proserpine,  concluding  with  the  Arraignment 
of  the  Mooned  The  main  characters  number  forty-two  besides 
serving-men,  swains,  Theban  ladies,  the  Seven  Planets,  and 
the  Furies,  and  the  play  is  virtually  a  panorama  of  loosely- 
connected  scenes,  no  attempt  being  made  to  arrive  at  anything 
like  real  unity.     That  portion  of  the  play  which  deals  with  the 

»  V.  Henslowe's  Diary  (Old  Shak.  Soc.  edition),  Vol.  VII,  pp.  61-62. 

3  IMd.,  p.  276. 

8  Op,  ciL,  Vol.  I,  p.  578. 

«  Old  Shak.  Soc.  Pub.,  Vol.  VI,  p.  89. 


THE  LAST  DECADE  OF  THE  CENTURY       91 

story  of  the  Amphitruo  is  confined  entirely  to  the  second  act, 
and  there  is  no  subdivision  into  scenes.  Homer  appears  as  a 
kind  of  chorus  throughout,  and  after  a  short  prologue  by  him 
we  have  a  long  stage  direction,  in  which  the  characters  of  the 
preceding  act  are  disposed  of,  and  Homer  announces : 
Of  Jupiter,  now  deified  and]made 
Supreme  of  all  the  gods,  we  next  proceed. 

The  general  situation  is  explained  just  as  in  Plautus,  except 
that  Mercury's  place  is  filled  by  Ganymede.  The  play  opens 
with  a  soliloquy  by  Jupiter,  followed  by  a  short  dialogue 
between  him  and  Ganymede.  The  latter,  in  the  guise  of  Sosia, 
informs  three  serving-men  of  Amphitryon's  success  in  battle; 
these  report  to  their  mistress  Alcmena,  and  presently  Jupiter, 
in  the  likeness  of  her  husband,  appears.  In  the  ensuing 
dialogue  he  tells  Alcmena  all  the  circumstances  of  the  battle, 
and  presents  to  her  the  cup  of  King  Pterelas,  which  Mercury — 
not  Ganymede — had  stolen  from  Amphitryon's  casket.  The 
story  up  to  this  point  is  not  related  in  Plautus  at  all,  and  on 
the  other  hand,  all  that  part  of  Act  I,  Sc.  i,  of  the  A^npJiitruo 
consisting  of  Sosia's  lament  over  his  hard  lot,  and  his  private 
rehearsal  of  the  message  he  is  to  deliver  to  his  mistress,  is 
omitted.  The  correspondence  between  the  two  plays  begins 
with  the  passage  relating  to  Sosia's  astonishment  as  to  the 
length  of  the  night.  From  this  point  on  Tlie  Silver  Age 
follows,  with  few  exceptions,  the  order  of  the  Amphitruo y  and 
occasionally  approaches  literal  translation,  though  usually  in 
very  short  passages.  As  this  whole  part  of  the  play  takes  up 
only  about  twenty  pages  of  the  Old  Shakspere  Society  edition,  it 
goes  without  saying  that  the  Latin  comedy  is  extensively  **cut" 
in  the  adaptation.  Whole  scenes  are  omitted  and  all  are 
shortened.     Some  of  the  chief  variations  are  as  follows : 

Sosia  tells  his  story  of  a  double,  not  only  to  Amphitryon, 
but  also  to  two  captains  who  accompany  the  general. 

Alcmena's  soliloquy  on  the  hard  lot  of  women,  together 
with  the  asides  of  her  husband  and  Sosia  {Amph,  II,  ii),  are 
omitted. 

The  Amphitryon-Sosia  dialogue  at  this  point  is  left  out, 
and  Alcmena  and  her  servants  are  introduced  in  conversation. 

The  goblet  is  produced,  after  which  Amphitryon  and  Sosia 
examine  the  seal  and  the  casket.  In  Plautus  the  examination 
takes  place  first. 


92  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

Alcmena's  circumstantial  account  of  the  events  of  the  pre- 
ceding night  follows  the  cup  incident ;  in  Plautus  it  precedes  it. 

Of  the  Amphitruo,  Act  III,  Sc.  i  and  Scs.  iii  and  iv,  as  also 
Act  IV,  Scs.  i,  ii,  and  iii  are  omitted  entirely. 

In  The  Silver  Age  Jupiter  meets  and  deceives  Blepharo  and 
Sosia.  The  captains,  who  aa-e  original  with  Heywood,  accom- 
pany Amphitryon  and  are  characters  throughout.  They 
desert,  believing  Jupiter  to  be  Amphitryon. 

Amphitryon  and  Sosia,  when  left  alone,  are  both  afraid  to 
claim  their  own  names.  They  fall  asleep,  and  Juno,  in  great 
wrath  and  accompanied  by  Iris,  descends.  Then  follows  the 
thunder  and  lightning,  and  the  scene  closes,  as  in  Plautus,  with 
Jupiter's  explanation.  The  next  act,  which  deals  with  "The 
Birthe  of  Hercules, "  treats  of  Juno's  futile  attempts  to  prevent 
Alcmena's  giving  birth  to  the  child.  Iris  then  brings  the 
serpents  from  Africa,  and  they  are  promptly  strangled.  The 
play  goes  on  to  relate  other  * 'labors,"  which  Hercules  had  to 
undertake  on  account  of  Juno's  spite.  - 

The  act  is  a  mere  sketch  of  the  Amphitruo,  and  may  be 
termed  a  loose  adaptation.  There  are  some  usually  unimpor- 
tant additions,  many  omissions  and  modifications ;  the  order  is 
generally,  though  not  strictly,  followed,  and  literal  translation 
is  rare.  The  act  is  written  in  blank  verse,  prose,  couplets,  and 
quatrains. 

The  last  of  the  plays  of  this  period  which  are  either  adapta- 
tions of  some  comedy  of  Plautus,  or  which  are  indebted  to  him 
in  some  important  particular*  is  Timon  of  Athens^  an  anony- 
mous play,  written  or  transcribed  about  the  year  1600.*  The 
story  of  Timon,  or  the  Man-Hater,  as  he  is  called  in  Lucian, 
was  well-known  at  this  time,  and  is  referred  to  in  Lovers 
Labour'' s  Lost  and  in  Shmletlieia^  a  collection  of  epigrams  and 
satires  which  was  published  in  1598.  The  story  is  told  in 
Plutarch,  and  from  this  ultimate  source  found  its  way  into  Tli& 
Palace  of  Pleasure.     Dyce  is  usually  upheld  in  his  belief  that 

*  It  may  be  mentioned  that  John  a  Kent  and  John  a  Cumber  contains  several 
suggestions  of  the  "doubt  as  to  one's  own  identity"  motif, 
a  Hazlitt,  Shakespeare's  Library,  Vol.  VI. 

8  Skialetheia  contains  a  passage  referring  to  the  staging  of  Plautus's  plays  at- 
this  time: 

"  Or  if  my  dispose 
Persuade  me  to  a  play,  He  to  the  Rose, 
Or  Ciu-taine,  one  of  Plautus  comedies. 
Or  the  patheticke  Spaniard's  tragedies." 


THE  LAST  DECADE  OF  THE  CENTURY       93 

Shakspere's  play  of  the  same  name  owes  nothing  to  the  earlier 
anonymous  version,  but  the  fact  that  a  scene  in  which  Timon. 
gives  a  banquet  to  his  false  friends  is  common  to  both  plays, 
but  is  not  found  either  in  Lucian  or  Plutarch,  is  surely  very 
difficult  of  explanation  unless  we  recognize  some  connection 
between  the  two  plays.  The  general  subject  has  no  connection 
with  any  of  Plautus's  comedies,  but  the  character  of  Philar- 
garus,  the  miser,  is  in  many  respects  closely  modeled  on  that 
of  Enclio  in  the  Aulularia^  the  latter  play  being  sometimes 
followed  even  to  literal  translation,  and  again  there  are  certain 
scenes  and  incidents  which  hark  back  to  Latin  comedy.  The 
different  kinds  of  borrowing  I  shall  consider  in  order : 

1.  Names.     Gelasimus,  a  city  heir,  bears  the  same  name  as  the 

parasite  in  Stichus. 

2.  Translated  Lines ,^    Cf. : 

her  gowne  is  rent, 
Or  ells  shee  stands  in  neede  of  a  gould  ringe,  (p.  399). 
with 

Aut  periit  aurum  aut  conscissa  pallula  est. 

Tniculentus,  Act  I,  Sc.  i,  1.  32. 

Compare  also  Grunnio's  description  of  Philargarus : 
Hee  tells 
How  many  spyders  are  about  his  house, 
Leaste  any 'one  of  us  steale  one  of  them: 


When  hee  sleepes 
Ties  a  paire  of  bellowes  to  his  winde-pipe. 
Ob.     Why  soe? 

Grun.     Least  in  his  sleepe  he  lose  parte  of  his  breathe, 
with  two  passages  descriptive  of  Euclio: 

Araneas  mi  ego  illas  servari  volo. 

Avlularia,  I,  ii,  9. 
and 

Quin  quom  it  dormitum  follem  obstringit  ob  gulam. 
Anth.    Cur?    Str.    Nequid  animae  forte  amittat  dormiens. 

Aulularia,  III,  i,  302-303. 
3.  Similarity  of  individual  scenes  or  passages, 
{a)  The  enumeration  of  dishes  at  the  banquet  given  by  Timon 

(p.  462)  recalls  similar  lists  frequently  given  in  Plautus. 
(b)  Cf .  the  extract : 

Give  me  free  passage ;  ye  knowen  and  unknowen  persons,  gette  ye 
out  of  my  way,  least,  as  I  goe,  I  offende  any  with  my  heade,  my 
elbowe  or  my  breaste,  (p.  481). 

»  Both  tliese  passages  are  pointed  out  in  Hazlitt's  edition  of  the  play. 


94  THE  BIRTHE   OF  HERCULES 

with  any  of  the  similar  speeches  in  Plautus,  e.g.,  Captivi,  IV, 
ii,  in  which  Ergasilus  announces  that  his  fist  is  a  balista,  his 
arm  a  catapulta  and  his  shoulder  a  battering-ram,  and  intimates 
further  that  those  who  meet  him  will  probably  soon  find  occu- 
pation in  picking  up  their  teeth. 
(c)  In  the  epilogue  Timon  asks  for  a   "plaudite,*'   as  was 

usually  done  on  the  Roman  stage. 
4.   Characterization. 

Pseudocheus,  the  lying  traveler,  and  Lollio,  the  intoxi- 
cated country  clown,  declare,  the  one  that  he  has  slain  2,000 
Amazons  at  once,  the  other  that  he  has  this  day  killed  3,000 
Trojans.  This  specific  boasting  recalls  that  of  Pyrgopolinices 
and  his  parasite.  Another  side  of  the  character  of  Plautus 's 
"miles  gloriosus"  is  suggested  in  Gelasimus,  the  half-witted  fop, 
who  is  in  love  with  himself,  and  believes  that  all  women  dote 
on  him.  But  the  great  example  of  borrowing  in  the  way  of 
characterization  is  to  be  found  in  the  picture  of  Philargarus, 
the  miser,  who  is  a  direct  reproduction  of  Euclio.  When  first 
we  meet  him  he  is  giving  orders  to  his  servant  to  protect  his 
house  properly,  lest  some  one  break  in  and  steal.  When  he 
believes  that  his  hidden  gold  has  been  found,  he  gives  vent  to 
his  despair  in  a  speech  (p.  435),  which  is  almost  a  free  transla- 
tion of  Euclio's  outburst  under  precisely  similar  circumstances 
{Aulul.  Ill,  vi).  His  intense  desire  to  get  his  daughter  married 
to  a  rich  man  and  without  a  dowry — "without  a  dowry,  that, 
remember  that" — is  the  counterpart  of  one  of  the  chief  aims  in 
the  life  of  Euclio.  Cf.,  e.g.,  Euclio's  ^^At  nil  est  dotis  quod 
dem'*''  (II,  ii,  238),  and  'HUudfacito  ut  memineris  convenisse  ut 
nequid  dotis  mea  ad  te  afferret  filia'*^  (II,  ii,  257-58).  We  have 
already  seen  that  Philargarus,  like  Euclio,  counts  tl\e  spiders  of 
his  house,  and  has  a  device  for  saving  his  breath.  Grunnio  is 
"more  hungry  than  hunger,"  and  there  is  nothing  to  eat  in  his 
master's  house ;  Staphyla  gives  us  the  same  information  regard- 
ing the  house  of  Euclio.  These  examples  establish  clearly 
-enough  the  relation  between  the  two  misers,  and  though  the 
situations  in  which  the  character  of  Philargarus  is  developed  are 
not  all  derived  from  the  Aulularia,  his  actions  never  belie  his 
kinship  with  the  family  of  Euclio. 


I  do  not  purpose  at  this  point  to  make  an  exhaustive  study 
of  the  influence  of  the  Latin  comedy-writers  on  Ben  Jonson ;  I 


THE  LAST  DECADE  OF  THE  CENTURY       93 

wish  merely  to  refer  to  the  beginnings  of  a  movement  of  which 
Jonson  was  from  the  first  the  recognized  leader.  His  earliest 
extant  plays  are  animated  by  a  spirit  of  intense  admiration  for 
the  ancient  comedy,  and  intense  dislike  of  the  unregulated 
beauties  of  the  contemporary  comic  muse.  The  portraying  of 
the  manners  of  his  time  in  a  drama,  which,  constructed  on 
classical  models,  should  aim  at  purely  artistic  excellence,  was 
the  object  he  set  before  himself.  In  the  prologue  to  Every 
Man  in  his  Humour  (played  in  1596,  printed  in  1598),  he  carries 
forward  the  laments  and  scorn  of  Sidney  and  Whetstone,  and 
ridicules  the  **ill  customs  of  the  age,"  which  compel  the 
playwright 

To  make  a  child,  no\^  swaddled,  to  proceed 
Man,  and  then  shoot  up,  in  one  beard,  and  weed, 
Past  threescore  years. 

What  he  himself  proposes  to  do  he  also  declares.    He  will  show 

forth 

.     .     .     deeds  and  language  such  as  men  do  use : 
And  persons,  such  as  comedy  would  choose, 
"When  she  would  show  an  image  of  the  times, 
And  sport  with  human  follies,  not  with  crimes. 

This  he  believed  to  be  the  legitimate  end  of  comedy,  and  he 
found  that  it  was  practically  exemplified  in  the  Latin  drama. 
His  perfect  familiarity  with  the  latter  now  became  the  strongest 
element  in  the  development  of  his  artistic  creed.  "We  may 
collect,"  says  Gifford,  "from  The  Case  is  Altered  and  Every 
Man  in  his  Humour  that  he  was  recent  from  the  study  of 
Plautus  and  Terence."^  Indeed,  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine 
him  as  having  his  models  open  before  him  as  he  wrote,  espe- 
cially in  such  a  passage  as  that  in  the  epilogue  of  Every 
Man  out  of  his  Humour  where  he  says:  "I  will  not  do  as 
Plautus  in  his  Amphytrio  for  all  this  stimmi  Jovis  causa 
plaudite;  beg  a  plaudite  for  God's  sake ;  but  if  you  out  of  the 
bounty  of  your  goodness  will  bestow  it,"  etc.  But  Jonson's 
plays  are  far  from  being  English  translations  of  Latin  comedy. 
It  was  because  he  saw  in  the  latter  artistic  transcriptions  of 
real  life,  and  because  he  felt  that  this  was  the  ideal  which 
comedy  should  strive  to  attain,  that  he  consciously  and 
deliberately  made  Plautus  and  Terence  his  models.  His  first 
play  betrays    its   prototype    at  every  page    while  remaining 


1  Memoirt,  p.  Ixx. 


96  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

thorouglily  original  and  essentially  English.  **Its  relation  to 
Latin  comedy,"  says  Mr.  Herford,  **is  indeed  unmistakable. 
Most  of  the  ^humours'  have  prototypes  there.  The  jealous 
husband,  the  timid  father,  the  rakish  sons,  the  boasting 
soldier,  the  cunning  slave  of  Plautus  and  Terence  have  helped 
{pace  Gifford)  to  suggest  Kitely  and  KnoVell,  Edward 
KnoVell  and  Wellbred,  Bobadil  and  Brainworm.  But  only  to 
suggest  them.  No  more  genuine  sketches  of  London  character 
are  to  be  found  in  the  drama.  They  are  drawn,  not  from 
books,  but  from  observation,  and  as  an  observer  Jonson  had  no 
equal  among  his  contemporaries  save  Shakespeare."^ 

The  appearance  of  Every  Man  in  his  Humour  announced 
and  marked  a  distinct  epoch  in  the  development  of  English 
drama.  It  was  not  the  beginning  of  a  movement  destined  to 
overthrow  the  triumphs  hitherto  secured  by  romantic  drama; 
it  was  the  inauguration  of  a  school  of  comedy  which  was  to 
stand  for  the  more  severe,  more  restrained,  more  simple  types 
of  beauty — and  this  is  applicable  with  regard  both  to  the 
matter  and  the  form — as  opposed  to  the  dominant  ignoring  of 
the  larger  formal  beauties,  and  the  exaltation  of  heterogeneous 
excellences  presented  in  a  carelessly  unrelated  fashion.  The 
influence  of  Jonson  and  his  ** tribe"  on  the  development  of 
the  brilliant  Romantic  school  must  have  been  of  the  most  vital 
kind,  and  its  effect  is  to  be  seen  in  many  works  which  unite 
classical  and  romantic  characteristics — the  works  of  men  who 
had  listened  to  the  seer  of  the  Mermaid  Tavern.  A  quarter  of 
a  century  after  the  beginning  of  his  career  as  a  dramatist, 
Jonson  must  admit  that 

Neat  Terence,  witty  Plautus,  now  not  please 

But  antiquated  and  deserted  lie 

As  they  were  not  of  Nature's  family. 

—  compelled  to  yield  to  the  all-compelling  power  of  Shak- 
spere's  genius.  Romanticism  in  the  drama  had  continued  to 
flourish  in  spite  of  the  strength  of  Jonson 's  work,  but  it  was 
after  having  incorporated  many  of  the  best  characteristics  of 
a  classical  comedy,  the  influence  of  which  had  not  been  entirely 
dissipated  when  another  movement  began  which  was  to  result 
in  the  literary  supremacy  of  classical  ideals. 

>  Op.  cit.,  pp.  xviii-xix. 


.;^V' 


or       ,K 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 


tTHE   BIRTHE   OF   HERCULES 


PROLOGUS  LAUREATUS 

I  am  a  Prologue ;  should  I  not  tell  you  soe 
You  would  scarse  know  me,  tis  soe  longe  agoe 
Since  Prologues  were  in  use.     Men  put  behinde 
Now  that  they  were  wont  to  put  before. 
.Thepilogue  is  in  fashion,  prologues  no  more. 
But  as  an  ould  Cyttye  woman  well 
Becomes  her  white  capp  still,  an  ould  preist 
His  shaued  crowne,  A  crosse  an  ould  church  dore, 
Soe  well  befyttes  a  prologue  an  ould  plaie. 

10         And  this  is  ould,  soe  ould  as  none  is  more, 
First  plaide  in  Athens  in  the  grascian  tonge, 
Since  fine  tymes  plaid  in  lattin,  and  in  Rome. 
There  t  has  bene  clapt  by  Consulls  and  emperors. 
Then  if  yt  lyke  not  you,  blame  not  the  Comedie, 
But  the  poet,  thactors,  your-selues  or  all  three. 
And  mark  you  that  it  is  a  Comedie, 
Or  tragicke  Comedye,  call  yt  which  you  will; 
.Tis  no  historic,  Ballett,  nor  Borras  tale, 
No  pleasant  newe  Interlude,  no  pretty  toye, 

»         No  pestered  deuise,  with  Actors  crowded  in, 

Drumbes,  Ensignes,  phiphes,  targetes  &  rusty  sword es; 

As  farre  from  hence  as  deuills  or  inkhome  wordes 

But  all  was  saide  when  it  was  saide  twas  ould 

*The  wurst,'  sales  some;  he  is  not  ould  that  sales  soe; 

*The  better,'  he  must  sale,  that  would  be  soe. 

And  whie  the  wurste?     Bycause  ould  thinges  are  stale? 

woomen  perhapps,  houses,  garmentes,  and  ould  ale ; 

But  what  sale  you  to  ould  gould,  what  to  ould  honesty, 

Ould  faith  and  troth,  better  then  twentie  bondes, 

9$  Ould  charitie,  ould  harty  sporte,  and  meryment? 
0,  had  you  sene  the  world  when  Grandame  Jone 
Did  call  your  Grandsire  John,  &  he  was  well  content ! 

t  Folio  1  =  blank  flyleat 


100  THE   BIRTHE   OF  HERCULES 

Some  will  not  lyke  those  same  translated  thinges, 
meaninge  by  plaies?  for  a  translated  sute 
Will  lyke  them  wondrous  well ;  but  let  them  knowe 
Our  poetes  aucthor  himself  translated  it 

Some  for  addinge  to  yt  and  alteringe  yt  *  rvk)^^li 

must  be  offended,  which  for  your  sake 
Our  Poet  did,  yet  no  Iniustice  neither, 
But  his  Aucthor,  who  hath  done  the  lyke  w 

himself  to  others  in  many  Comedies, 
In  his  Asinaria,^  Casina,  Mercdtor,  Epidicus, 
And  after  him  Terence  in  Phormio  &  Eunuchus ; 
Besides,  French  and  Italiens  doe  the  same, 
f  Some  will  condempne  as  unfyttinge  heathen  mouth 
the  use  of  Christian  asseueracions, 
Which  use  let  use  excuse.     Soe  in  this  playe 
Our  aucthor,  oftentymes  yeeldinge  to  forme, 
Sweres  by  Hercules  ere  Hercules  was  borne. 
But  our  poet  lookes  not  to  doe  more  5o 

Then  Joue  himself,  who,  raine  he  or  hould  he  up, 
pleases  not  all :  tis  enough  if  he  please  some. 
And  soe  much  might  this  Comedye  more  pleasinge  be 
bycause  yt  patternes  out  a  highe  mistery. 
But  one  thinge  he  bad  me  tell  you :  pardone  him  this. 
And  he  craues  us  pardon  for  his  next  amysse. 

1  Written  "  Aslnanla  "  in  MS. 
tFol.  2  verse. 


fMERCURIUS  PROLOGUS 

Yon  would  thinke  yt  were  daie 

Now,  I  am  sure ;  noe,  it  is  night, 

Or  at  least,  an  you  be  good  fellowes, 

Thinke  soe  for  this  once.     Soe  perhapps 

You  would  take  me  for  a  man. 

But  you  are  deceiued,  for  I  am  a  god, 

And  that  by  this  good  night ;  yet  I  doe  not  wonder 

You  should  mistake  me,  for  unles  yt  be 

The  maskinge  god  Cupid,  you  may  well 

10         Haue  heard  of  the  ould  Goddes,  but  I  thinke 
It  is  a  good  while  since  you  see  any  of  us. 
Well,  you  are  lyke  to  see  twoe  of  us  to-night, 
An  you  will,  at  least — an  you  will  not 
You  may  chuse, — my  father  Jupiter  &  my-self , 
Merry  Mercury,  with  one  of  the  maddest  prankes 
That  euer  my  father  and  I  plaied,  and  yet 
If  you  will  beleue  in  the  poets  gospell 
We  haue  plaied  a  hundreth  in  our  dales. 
The  place  where  we  now  are  is  Thebes ; 

90         This  is  Amphitruo  his  house, 

A  great  lord  of  this  countrie,  under  Kinge  Creon, 

And  now  at  this  instant,  his  deputy  generall 

Of  his  Armye  against  the  Teleboians, 

Upon  whome  he  hath  gotten  a  notable  victory. 

In  this  meanetyme  my  father  Jupiter, 

haveinge  taken  upon  him  his  shape, 

Plaies  his  deputy  speciall  here  at  home 

With  his  wyef ,  faire  Alcumena, 

Who  verylie  takes  him  for  her  husband. 

*)         And  he,  by  thadvantage  of  the  night, 
Makes  her  beleiue  that  for  her  sake 
He  stole  awaie  of  purpose  from  his  Armye, 
But  must  be  gone  againe  in  any  wise 
to  be  there  by  breake  of  daie. 

tFoL3a. 

101 


102  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

Indeed  he  could  not  staie  longer  bycause  of 
Amphitruo  his  comeing  home. 
In  this  meane-while  Amphitruo  sends  home 
To  his  Lady  a  messenger  of  his  good  successe, 
And  after  him  another  for  faile, 

And  by  to-morowe  will  be  here  himself.  4q 

And  this  is  my  office  to  send  them  backe  againe 
As  wise  as  they  came,  for  disturbeing  of  my  father, 
And  to  doe  him  such  other  services  as  you  shall  see 
hereafter,  till  his  busines  be  dispatcht. 
fTo  this  purpose  haue  I  made  my-self 
as  lyke  Sosia,  the  first  of  these  messengers, 
as  ys  possible,  and  am  taken  here  in  the  house 
for  the  very  same.     And  I  can  but  smile 
to  see  how  kinde  Alcumenas  wayting  woman, 
Thessala,  is  to  me,  thinking  suerly  ,      so 

that  I  am  her  lone  Sosia.     But  that 
you  may  knowe  us  asunder,  I  will 
were  in  my  hatt  a  peice  of  a  fether 
for  a  difference ;  and  the  same  difference 
shalbe  betwixt  my  father  and  Amphitruo, 
which  none  els  shall  perceaue  but  you. 

And  here  comes  in  my  Image  to  begin  with  all. 
Now  mark  the  sequell,  but  tell  me 
when  we  haue  done,  whither  I  and  my 
player  plaied  our  partes  well  or  noe.  w 

DRAMATIS    PERSONS 

Sosia,  Servus  Amphyt. 

Mercurius. 

Dromio,  alter  Ser.  Amphyt. 

Jupiter. 

Alcumen^a,  uxor  Amphyt. 

Thessala,  pedissequa  Ale. 

Amphitruo,  Imperator  exercitu.    - 

Blepharo,  nauclerus. 

Bromia,  altera  e  pedissequis  Ale.  9. 

tFoL  3  to. 


tTHE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

ACTUS  PRIMUS 

SCENA  I 

S08IA  MERCURIUS 

(Ad  oomoediae  magnificentiam  apprime  oonferet  ut  coelum  Hie- 
trionium  sit  luna  &  stellis  perspicue  distinctum. 

Notae  marginales  inseniiant  dirigendae  histrioniae. 
Mercurius  exeat  cum  scipione  in  manu.)* 

S.  Am  not  I  a  bould  slaue,  that  knowinge  fashions  as  I  doe, 
dare  alone  adventure  abrode  thus  late  in  the  night?  What 
if  I  should  meete  with  the  watch,  and  Master  Constable 
should  come  and  examyne  me?  "What  are  you.  Sir?"  **A 
gentleman,"  saye  I,  **at  the  least."  Well,  he  makes  no 
question  of  yt,  and  yet  I  make  a  question  whither  I  shall 
fare  the  better  for  yt.  "Then  from  whence  come  you?" 
I  tell  him,  and  he  beleues  me  not.  Or  saie  I  tell  him 
not,  but  giue  the  base  fellow  crosse  language,  and  aske 

)         him,  "What  skilt  you?     How  dare  you  be  soe  boulde  as 

examyne  any  of   the  kinges  servauntes?"  for  soe  I  may 

make  him  beleiue.     Then  he,  meaninge  Master  Constable, 

laies  the  kinges  servaunte,  meaninge  me,  in  the  gaole. 

M.        [Aside.]    Where  thou  wilt  wish  the  twice,  I  beleue,  to  be 

from  hence,  yet  eare  thou  goest. 
S.         I,  and  that  which  is  worse,  what  if  the  pesant,  havinge  a 
knavish  skonce  lyke  mine,  come  and  floute  me  when  he 
hath  done,    and  aske  me   where   the  kinges   servauntes 
should  be  lodged  but  in  the  kinges  owne  house?     I'  faith, 

0         then  I  haue  made  a  fayre  trauell  of  yt ;  yet  forsooth  I  must 

needes  be  gone  by  night,  and  might    not  be  suffred  to 

staie  till  morninge.     This  it  is  to  serve  great  men;  they 

tFol.  4  a.     ~~~~" 
All  these  directions  In  the  MS.  are  written  in  the  wide  margins. 

1C3 


104  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

knowe  much  what  labour  is,  and  they  regard  as  much  what 
thine  is,  and  yet  there  is  ever  about  them  some  thinge  to 
doe,  &  done  yt  must  be,  there  is  no  remedie. 

M.  [Aside,]  It  were  a  wonder  to  see  a  base  servaunte  at 
anye  tyme  contented,  or  ever  to  heare  him  speake  well  of 
his  Master. 

S.         Well,  yet  it  is  some  ease  to  my  mynde  that  my  Master 
would  rather  countenance  me  with  the  message  then  that  so 
ill  fac't  rascall  Dromio,  who  had  more  need  to  be  well 
Countenanced  then  I,  though  I  sale  yt  my-self. 

M.  [Aside.]  As  good  as  your  Countenance  is,  I  doubt  not 
but  to  see  the  coppie  of  yt  altered  eare  you  and  I  parte. 

f  S.  (Meticulose)  Tis  late  night,  and  me-thinkes  I  feele  in  my- 
self more  then  ordinarie  devotion.  I  had  not  a  better 
mynde  to  my  praiers  a  great  while,  and  I  must  needes 
confesse  I  praie  so  seldome  that  if  a  mischeif  should  befall 
me  to-night  yt  is  no  more  then  I  haue  well  deserued. 
(In  morem  orantis) 

M.        [Aside,]    I,  now  the  villeine  is  afraied,  now  he  remem-4a 
bers  God;  this  is  iust  the  fashion  of  men.     Yet  it  is  well 
he  can  acknowledge  what  he  is  worthie  of. 

S.  Tut,  Sosia,  pluck  up  a  good  harte ;  doest  thou  not  come 
from  the  warrs?  Is  not  victorie  on  thy  side?  I,  such  vic- 
torie  who  could  ever  haue  hoped  for?  Our  Enymies,  whoe 
were  in  nomber  aboue  us,  utterly  overthrowne  by  the  good 
conducte  of  our  noble  generall,  the  Story  of  which  over- 
throwe  I  am  to  deliuer  to  his  Lady  and  my  mistres,  which  is 
the  cause  of  my  comeinge  hither  at  this  tyme.  But  I  had 
best  first  call  yt  to  minde  by  my-self,  that  yt  be  done  with-  eo 
out  haglinge  before  her,  least  soe  I  disgrace  my-self  in  the 
presence  of  my  best  beloved  and  most  sweet  Thessala. 
After  we  came  on  lande  an  Ambassador  was  dispatcht  to 
the  Enymie,  to  require  restytucion  of  such  thinges  as  they 
had  taken  from  us,  and  on  that  condicion  to  offer  them 
peace,  otherwise  warre.  They  denied  restytucion;  here- 
upon followed  warre.  The  Armies  were  brought  forth  on 
both  sides.  I  stood  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  behinde  a  hill, 
from  whence  I  might  easily  discouer  what  was  done,  and 
that  with  double  advantage.     For  if  we  gott  the  dale  I  was  » 

sure  to  be  one  of  the  first  at  ransackinge  the  tentes,  while 
___  - 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  105 

others  were  occupied  in  pursuynge  them  that  fledd;  if 
we  lost  yt,  I  had  a  faire  starte  of  the  [rest]^  for  runynge 
awaie.  But,  by  the  masse,  I  must  take  heed  of  stumblingo 
upon  this  before  my  lady  and  mistres :  soe  were  I  quite 
shamed  for  ever.  "No,  I  was  by,  madame,  an  eye  wytnes, 
though  not  a  very  nigh  wytnes  of  all.  The  signe  beinge 
given  and  the  alarum  sounded,  both  Armies  ioyned  together. 
There  was  heavinge  and  shovinge,  killinge  and  slayinge. 

TO         But  in  a  small  time  the  Enymie  began  to  flye  soe  fast  that 

where  I  was  a-fightinge  I  found  not  one  man  to  resyste 

me."    All  this  while  I  am  sure  I  lye  not. 

M.        lAside.]     Noe,  I  dare  answere  for  the. 

S.         **As  they  fledd,  in  the  chace  Amphitruo  my  Lord,  our 

worthie  generall,  killed  Kinge  Pterelas  himself  hand  to 

hande.     The  fight  lasted  from  morninge  till  night,  well 

fare  all  good  tokens,  for  that  dale  I  went  without  any 

dynner,  and  with  the  approach  of  night  the  pursute  ended. 

f The  next  daie  the  whole  Cyttie  came  out  barefoote  and 

a)  bare-headed,  to  yeeld  themselues,  and  all  they  had,  into  our 
handes.  And  to  our  Lord  Amphitruo,  for  his  specyall 
desarte,  they  presented  a  goodlie  Cupp,  the  same  that  their 
kinge  he  slewe  was  wonte  to  drinke  in."  And  soe  now  I 
see  I  am  readie  in  my  tale.  I  will  hasten  home  while  yt 
is  freshe  in  my  memorie,  least  I  forget  yt  againe. 
M.  [Aside.]  Now  is  he  comeinge  hither;  I  will  meet  him 
half  waie.  An  if  he  come  anie  nearer  these  dores  at  this  tyme 
let  Mercury  be  beleived  on  his  word  no  more.  I  must  haue 
a  lytle  sport  with  him.    And  as  I  am  lyke  him  in  Shape,  soe 

iH)  will  I,  for  this  once,  be  content  to  become  lyk  him  in  man- 
ners to,  I  meane  as  craftie  a  Jybinge  knave  as  he,  for  there 
is  the  credytt  to  put  a  man  downe  at  his  owne  weapon. 
But  me-thinkes  he  stands  gazinge  up  soe  earnestlie  he  hath 
spied  some  wonder  in  the  Element.  I  will  laie  my  lief  yt 
is  the  man  in  the  moone. 
8.  Is  the  moone  and  the  starres  sleepe  drunke  to-nighte, 
trowe  we?  The  seauen  starrs,  Charles  wayne,  the  pianettes 
move  not  a  whytt,  and  daie  seemes  as  farre  of  now  as  yt 
did  eight  houres  agoe. 

100 M.        [Aside.]     Goe  on,  night,  goe  on,  and  favour  my  fathers 

J  Word  omitted  in  copy  of  MS. 
t  Fol.  5  a. 


106  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

pleasure  still ;   thou  canst  not  doe  seruice,  good  night,  to 
a  better  man. 

S.  I  haue  found  the  reason  now,  He  laye  my  lief  on't :  and 
the  moone  and  her  companie  be  not  drunke  now,  at  the  least 
the  Sonne  was  drunke  yesternight,  and  that  makes  him  lye 
in  bedd  soe  longe  this  morninge. 

M.  [Aside.]  This  vylleine  thinkes  the  immortal  Gods  to  be 
lyke  himself.  But  tis  all  one;  that  is,  he  shall  haue  one 
reckoninge  for  all  a-none. 

S.         Ha,  where  are  those  good  fellowes  now  that  lye  alone,  no 
bycause  they  cannot  chuse,  for  want  of  abedfellowe?     This 
were  no  night  for  a  man  to  lye  with  a  wench  in. 

M.  [Aside.]  The  fellowe  speakes  wysely,  and  accordinge  to 
his  councell ;  my  father  hath  chosen  this  night  to  lye  with 
his  mistres  in. 

S.  Well,  I  will  hence.  But  whats  he  me-thinkes  I  see  at 
the  dore  at  this  tyme  of  night?  I  doe  not  lyke  yt.  (obnixe 
circumspectans) 

M.        [Aside.]     As  fainte-harted  a  villeine  as  lyves  againe. 

S.  Who  can  tell  whither  I  now  wantinge  a  lodginge,  he  be 
one  of  those  that  will  interteine  a  man  of  free  cost  at  the  12a 
signe  of  the  Cudgell.  Or  yt  may  ^be  it  is  some  pittifull 
gentleman,  that  knowinge  my  master  hath  made  me  watch 
for  the  one  halfe  of  the  night,  he  wilbe  soe  good  as  laie  me 
a-sleep  for  the  other.  I  doe  not  lyke  his  looke ;  for  the 
eone  of  god,  what  a  sturdie  knave  yt  is  to  see  to ! 

M.  [Aside.  ]  In  good  time,  Sir.  Well,  now  will  I  advance  my 
voyce  a  lytle  that  he  maieheare  me. — In  faith,  gentle  Cud- 
gell, you  haue  done  me  seruice  to  speake  of  this  moneth ; 
mutch  about  that  time  yt  was  when  yow  laid  nyne  asleepe 
altogether.  13a 

S.  His  Cudgell  and  he  are  verie  familiar,  as  yt  semes;  I 
praie  God  I  be  not  drawne  into  the  acquaintance,  to.  Let 
me  see;  yt  has  laid  nyne  asleepe,  as  he  sales,  alreadie.  Tis 
an  odd  number,  that  same  nine;  tis  ten  to  one  and  I  be  not 
taken  up  to  make  it  euen.^ 

M.        I  will ;  I  will  stale  no  longer. 

S.         Yt  is  euen  as  I  said.     What  the  deuill  shall  I  doe? 

M.        He  shall  never  scape  my  fingers. 

tFol.  5  b.  ' 

»  This  sentence  is  an  emendation  in  place  of  the  following  words,  crossed  out: 
'if  he  should  take  me  up  for  a    .    .    .    or  soe,  to  make  upp  the  tenth," 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  107 

S.         Whome  doth  he  meane,  thinke  you? 
140  M.        Whosoeuer   comes    next   in  my  walke,  he   shall    haue 

cndgellinge  his  bellie  full. 
S.         I  doe  not  love  to  eate  thus  late  in  the  night:  he  may  doe 

well  to  bestowe  his  Almes  on  them  that  be  hungrie. 
M.        Ha,  tis  a  cudgell  for  the  nonce :    tis  not  a  haire  lighter 

then  it  should  be. 
S.         Nowe  he  hath  waied  yt,  the  next  thinge  he  has  to  doe  is 

to  measure  yt  upon  my  shoulders. 
M.        What  if  I  giue  him  but  a  gentle  blowe  to  cast  him  in  a 

slumber? 
ISO  S.         Then  yt  saues  my  lief,  for  I  want  nothinge  but  Sleepe. 
M.        But  what  talk  I  of  this?     My  Cudgell,  I  knowe,  cannot 

giue  a  gentle  blowe ;  yt  neuer  toucht  man  yet  but  yt  marde 

the  fashion  of  his  face. 
S.         Thats  well;  then,  belyke,  I  am  to  haue  a  newe  face. 

I  had  even  as  live  keepe  my  ould  still,  thoughe  yt  be  none 

of  the  best.     This  were  the  onely  fellowe  in  the  world  for 

Dromio  to  meet  withall ;  he  is  sure  he  cannot  haue  a  wurse. 

At  a  venture,  would  he  were  now  in  my  rome. 

160  f  M.      Is  there  not  a  voice  come  flyinge  to  my  eares? 

S.         Has  my  voice  winges,  then?    An  I  had  knowne  soe  much 

before,  I  could  haue  dipt  them,  by  my  voices  leave. 
M.        It  is  some  villeinie,  sure,  that  I  must  be  faine  to  lade  with 

blowes. 
S.         A  good  iest.     I  can  scarse  get  emptie,  I  am  so  wearie; 

how  shall  I  doe,  thinke  yee,  when  I  am  laden? 

M.        0  1  see  him  now ;  heare  he  comes  towardes  me. 

S.         I  begin  to  feele  my-self  in  a  monstrous  euill  takinge;  I 

170         must  needes  confesse  I  can  scarse  tell  where  I  am.     As  for 

my  Lordes  message,  thats  scard  out  of  my  head  by  this 

time.     But  yet  I  will  set  a  good  face^  ont',  and  speake  as 

»  The  following  is  here  crossed  out: 
M.      Come,  my  cudgell  is  wood  madd  to  bee  at  him. 

S.        Ant*  be  soe  madd,  would  you  wold  tame  yt  a  lytle  on  the  wall  first,  eare  yt 
byte  my  shoulders. 

t  Pol.  6  a. 

*  The  following  is  here  crossed  out : 
M.       Hark,  methinkes  I  heare  some  scuruie  fellowe  talkinge. 
S.        An  his  name  be  Dromio,  good  enough,  my  name  ys  Sosia. 

»  Looks  like  "  fact "  in  MS. 


108  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

well  as  my  hart  will  giue  me  leave,  to  make  him  the  more 

unwillinge  to  medle  with  me. 
M.        Sirra,  whither  walke  you  there,  you  with  the  home  & 

the  lanteme? 
S.         (Inversio  ex  pauore)    A  man  might  breake  a  lest  now,  an 

yt  were  8oe  convenient,  and  saie,  **Horne  an  you  will,  but 

lanteme  in  your  face."     But  I  will  forbeare  for  this  once, 

yet  he  shall  not  goe  unanswered  neyther. — Si-Si-Sir,  what  iw 

haue  you  to  doe  that  are  a  maker  of  newe  faces? 
M.        Sirra,  tell  me  in  fewe  wordes,  from  whence  you  come, 

whose  you  are,  and  whither  you  goe. 
S.         In  as  fewe  as  you  would  wish,  Sir :  I  come  from  hence,  Sir, 

I  am  my  maisters  man,  and  am  goeinge  hither.     I  thinke 

you  are  answered. 
M.        Answered,  indeed,  after  a  fashion,  but  I  will  bridle  that 

tounge  of  yours  an  yee  answere  me  no  hansomer. 
S.         You  seeme  to  mistake  me.  Sir.     I  am  no  horse  that  my 

tounge  should  be  bridled.  iw 

M.        I  beleive  I  shall  make  you  a  horse  or  some  such  thinge 

(you  knowe  my  meaninge)  yet  ere  you  and  I  parte. 
S.         Ha,  Ha,  He !     I  dare  saie  you  meane  an  Asse,  Sir. 
M.        I  am  gladd  you  are  mery.  Sir.     But  you  will  tell,  I  am 

sure,  for  all  this,  what  busines  you  haue  heare. 
S.  Nay  then.  Sir,  what  busines  haue  you  heare? 
M.        I  will  not  shirke  to  tell  you.  Sir.    I  ame  one  of  the  watch 

appointed  here  for  this  night, 
f  S.        Tis  well  done.     When  Enimies  are  abroade  watch  and 

ward  should  be  kept  at  home.     But  I'faith,  Master  watch- 200 

man,  an  you  be  a  good  f  ellowe,  tell  them  within  that  one 

of  their  famylie  is  come. 
M.        I  knowe  not  how  you  meane.  Sir,  *one  of  their  familie,' 

but  an  you  be  not  gone  the  soner,  I  feare  me  I  shall  use 

you  somewhat  to  familiarlie. 
S.         Begone,  quoth  he;  whie  I  tell  you,  man,  here  I  dwell, 

and  here  I  am  servaunte. 
M.        And  I  tell  you,  stale  but  a  lytle  longer.  He  make  you  be 

carryed  awaie  as  if  you  were  maister. 
S.         How  meane  you  that.  Sir?  210 

M.        Mary,  with  state,  upon  mens  shoulders,  if  I  but  once 

lifte  up  this  cudgell. 

tFol.  6  b. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  109 

S.         Doe  what  you  will,  Sir,  but  I  sale  still,  and  will  main- 

teine,  that  I  am  one  of  this  houshould. 
M.        Yow  wilbe  gone? 

S.         Will  yow  let  one  from  comeinge  into  their  owne  house? 
M.        Is  this  your  house? 
S.         It  is,  I  will  stand  to  yt. 

M.        I  praie  the,  whoe  is  the  maister,  canst  thou  tell? 
«o  S.         Amphitruo,  the  generall  of  the  Theban  Army,  husband  to 

Alcumena. 
M.        Amphitruo  thy  maister?    Tell  me  then,  whats  thy  name? 
S.         I  am  called,  at  home,  Sosia;  ould  Dauus  was  my  father. 
M.        Out   upon   the,  villeine !    Comest  thou  hither  with  soe 

many  lies  patcht  together? 
S.         Indeed  my  Coate  may  be  patcht,  but  I  knowe  not  what 

you  meane  by  patchinge  of  lyes. 
M.        Your  cote  may  be  facet  to,  maie  yt  not?    Well,  for  your 

patchinge  and  faceinge  I  will  giue  you  a  bombastinge  to,  to 
»o         teach  you  to  speake  truelye  here-after. 
S.         But  how  an  a  man  will  not  be  bombasted? 
M.        But  how  an  a  man  cannot  chuse?       [Mercury  beats  him, 
S.         Hei,  heu,  hoi !     I  beseech  you.  Sir. 
M.        Barest  thou  sale  to  me,  villeine,  thou  art  Sosia,  when  I 

my-self  am  Sosia? 
f  S.       Alas,  what  shall  I  doe? 
M.        Naie,  this  is  but  a  lytle  of  the  best  to  that  that  is  beside. 

Now,  Sir,  an  a  man  may  aske  you,  whose  are  you,  I  praie  you? 

S.         0  yours,  Sir,  youres,  I  were  your  colors  heare,  none  but 

240         youres.  Sir.     You  haue  taken  me,  me-thinkes,  into  your 

owne  handes. 
M.        Tell  me,  then,  wherefore  are  you  come? 
S.         Tis  plaine.  Sir;  I  marvell  you  will  aske  the  question. 

Yow  see  yourself, — to  be  beaten. 
M.        He  beate  you  better  yet  an  you  answere  me  not  the 

soner.     Whose  man  are  yow  once  againe? 
S.         An  I  will  tell  you  once  againe,  I  am  Amphitruo  his  man 


M.        What?    Againe  Sosia?  [Beats  him  again. 

SGO  S.         Murder !  murder !     Some  honest  Theban  come  helpe  me. 
M.        Your  bawlinge  shall  not  helpe  you.    I  tell  the  yet  againe, 
I  am  Sosia. 

tFoL  7  a. 


110  THE   BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

S.  An  you  be  not,  would  you  were  els  for  me,  that  yow  might 
be  as  suerly  cudgelled  as  Sosia  is. 

M.        Now  tell  me  once  more,  whoe  is  your  maister? 

S.         Even  whome  yow  will,  Sir. 

M.        And  what  might  be  your  name? 

S.  Now  be  you  my  godfather.  Sir,  I  praie  you;  giue  me 
what  name  you  will.  I  think  you  had  best  call  me  Stock- 
fish instead  of  Sosia,  for  yow  seeme  to  take  me  for  no  lesse.  36o 

M.  This  ys  you  that  said  even  now  you  were  Sosia,  yow 
Amphitruo  his  man. 

S.  I  conf esse,  Sir,  my  tonge  tript ;  I  would  not  haue  said 
Sosia;  I  would  haue  said,  *Soe  as  you  saie.' 

M.  I  knew  he  had  no  servaunte  Sosia  but  my-self.  I  thinke 
thou  wert  not  well  in  thy  wyttes. 

S.  May  a  man  but  speake  to  you,  Sir,  by  your  good  leaue,  a 
word  or  twoe  of  free  cost,  without  payinge  for  yt  ? 

M.        Goe  to;  I  am  content  to  make  truce  with  the  for  a  tyme. 

S.         Sweare  you  will  not  touch  me,  then.  w» 

M.        Trust  me  of  my  word;  I  will  not. 

S.  And  soe  I  may,  now  I  remember  me,  for  hither-to  you 
haue  kept  yt  with  me ;  but  how  if  you  breake  y t  now? 

f  M.       Then  let  Mercury  be  Sosia  his  mortall  Enimy. 

S.  Well,  now  I  male  speake  what  I  list,  I  am  Amphitruo 
his  man  Sosia. 

M.        You  are,  Sir?  [Beats  him. 

S.  Sir,  you  haue  made  truce  with  me,  and  are  bound  by 
your  worde,  and  I  speak  nothinge  but  truth. 

M.        I  care  not  for  that.  280 

S.  Nay,  use  me  as  you  please ;  I  conf  esse  you  are  the  better 
man.  Yet  I  will  neuer  deny  while  I  line  but  that  I  am  Sosia, 
one  of  the  servauntes  of  this  house,  who  with  my  fellow 
Dromio  went  from  hence  with  our  Lord  Amphitruo. 

M.        Out  of  doubt  I  see  now  thou  art  not  well  in  thy  wyttes. 

S.  Good  Lord,  Sir,  that  you  will  deny  that  I  am  my  maisters 
Sosia !  Did  not  our  ship  come  this  night  from  the  Haven? 
Did  not  my  Master  send  me  hither?  Doe  I  not  stand  now 
before  our  house?  Have  I  not  a  lanterne  in  my  hande? 
Doe  I  not  speak?  Am  I  not  awake?  Haue  I  not  bene  well  sw 
cudgelled?  What  should  let  me  then  to  goe  straight  into 
our  house? 

tFol.  7  b. 


^HE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  111 

M.        Your  house? 

S.         I,  our  house ;  soe  I  sale,  doe  what  you  will. 

M.  Villeine,  thou  hast  lyed  hitherto  in  every  worde  thou 
hast  spoken,  for  I  am  that  Sosia  that  went  with  Amphitruo 
from  hence,  that  was  present  at  the  action,  sawe  the 
towne  deliuered,  knowe  that  my  Lord  killed  kinge  Pterelas 
with  his  owne  hands. 
300  S.  [Aside.]  How  now?  Nay,  then,  I  will  not  beleve  myself 
that  I  am  Sosia,  an  he  goe  on  thus  a  lytle  further. — But  I 
praie  you.  Sir,  an  a  man  may  speake  without  correccion,  you 
sale  you  were  by  at  the  deliuery  of  the  towne ;  can  you  tell 
a  man  what  present  was  giuen  Amphitruo  by  the  Teleboians? 

M.        The  cup  that  kinge   Pterelas    himself  was  wonte  to 
drinke  in. 

S.         [Aside.]    He  hath  tould  yt. — But,  an  you  will  not  be 
angrie  for  askinge.  Sir,  where  might  this  cupp  be? 

M.        Tis  sealed  up  in  a  Caskett  with  Amphitruo  his  owne  scale. 
310 S.         0  infynite!     I  beseech  you.  Sir,  but  the  scale? 

M.        The  Sonne  rysinge,  drawne  in  an  Azure  coatch  with  foure 
flame-colored  horses. 

S.  [Aside,]  By  Jupiter,  he  hath  put  me  downe  by  plaine 
Argumentes.  I  must  be  faine  to  goe  gett  me  a  ^newe  name, 
for  any-thinge  I  see.  Yet  I  cannot  Imagine  where  he  should 
leame  all  this.  But  now  I  remember  my-self,  I  will  aske 
him  one  thinge  he  shall  never  be  hable  to  tell  me  while  he 
Hues, — that  I  did  alone  in  the  tente  when  no  christian  mann 
was  by  me. — Sir,  if  yow  be  Sosia,  when  the  legions  had  bene 
320  a  good  while  in  chace  of  the  Enimy,  what  did  you  alone 
when  you  came  to  your  lordes  tente?  Tell  me  but  that,  and 
I  yeeld  for  ever. 

M.        I  ran  to  a  hoggshead  of  wyne  and  filled  a  botle. 

S.         [Aside.]     He  is  in  the  waie  alreadie. 

M.        Then  sat  me  downe  upon  a  feilde-bedd  by,  &  drunke  yt 
of,  every  dropp. 

S.         [Aside.]     True,  by  the  Lord,  true;  unles  he  were  then 
in    the    bottom    of  the   bottle  I  cannot   gesse    how  the 
devill  he  should  knowe  yt. 
830  M.        Now,  Sir,  haue  I  convinced  you  by  sufficient  proof es  that 
I  am  Sosia? 

S.         You  sale  you  are,  Sir. 

tFol.  8  a.        ~~~  ' 


lli^  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

M         And  have  reason  to,  I  thinke. 

S.  (Lachrymanter)  But  I  durst  be  swome  by  Jupiter  that  I 
am  Sosia. 

M.  And  I  dare  sweare  by  Mercury  that  Jupiter  will  beleeve 
me  of  my  worde,  before  he  will  beleue  the  on  thy  othe. 

S.  I  beseech  you,  Sir,  doe  but  tell  me  whoe  should  I  be,  as 
you  thinke,  if  I  be  not  Sosia? 

M.        Sir,  when  I  leaue  to  be  Sosia,  you  male  be  he  for  any-  340 
thinge  I  knowe ;  in  the  meane-time  be  gone  presently,  or 
els  you  knowe  what  will  followe. 

S.  As  I  line,  when  I  looke  upon  him  he  is  soe  lyke  me  that 
me*-thinkes  I  see  my-self  in  a  glasse.  His  hatt,  his  clothes 
are  lyke  myne.  His  legge,  his  foote,  his  stature,  his  nose, 
his  lippes,  his  cheekes,  his  beard,  every  parte  of  him. 
What  should  I  saie  more?  (itenira  Lachrymanter)  If  he 
haue  as  manie  blowes  on  his  shoulders  as  I  haue  to, 
there  were  never  twoe  egges  lyker  one  another.  And  yet 
me-thinkes  on  the  other  side,  when  I  Remember  my-self,  Isso 
was  neuer,  that  I  can  call  to  mynde,  but  the  same  man. 
I  remember  my  maister;  I  knowe  his  house;  I  am  not  a- 
sleepe ;  I  am  not  drunke :  whie  then  should  not  I  be  Sosia? 
I  am  Sosia,  &  I  will  goe  into  our  house,  that  I  will. 

M.        Whither  now.  Sir? 

S.         To  our  house. 

M.  Yet  againe,  *our  house'?  Get  yow  gone  quicker  without 
more  wordes,  you  had  best,  or  els  He  make  youre  skynne 
of  more  colors  then  the  walls  of  your  house. 

f  S.       May  not  I  tell  my  mistres  what  my  Master  badd  me?       8«> 

M.  Goe  tell  your  mistres  what  you  liste.  As  for  her  that 
dwells  here,  she  is  my  mistres,  and  if  you  see  her  to-daie  yt 
shall  cost  you  dearlie. 

S.  Nay,  He  be  gone  first;  t'has  cost  me  enough  already; 
would  you  bare  parte  of  my  charges!  [Aside,]  Lord  in 
heuen,  what  a  thinge  is  this!  Whats  become  of  me,  trowe 
yee?  When  did  I  loose  my-self?  When  was  I  chaunged? 
Did  I  leaue  my-self  yonder  &  perhapps  forgett  yt?  For  he 
hath  all  the  shape  I  haue  heare  as  iust  as  a  hayre.  Well,  I 
will  retume  to  my  maister,  and  let  him  knowe  of  all  that  stq 
hath  pasti  if  he  hath  forgotten  me,  to,  I  will  even  to  the 
fonte  and  unchristen  my-self  againe. 

» Written  ♦•  my"  in  MS.  t  FoL  8  to. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  IIS 

SCEN  II 

MEBCUBIUS   SOLUS 

(Hilariter) 

Hitherto  onr  busines  goes  forward  well,  and  I  thinke  I 
haue  done  my  father  good  seruice.  But  all  is  not  done 
yet;  there  is  another  blocke  to  remoue.  For  Amphitruo, 
longing  to  comforte  his  wief  with  these  gladd  tydinges  of 
his  vyctorie,  despatches  his  man  Dromio  presentlie  after 
Sosia  in  another  shipp,  that  if  one  should  chance  to 
miscarry  the  other  might  happilie  aryve  in  time.  Sosia 
arryued,  as  you  see,  in  an  evill  houre,  and,  with  a  flea  in 
his  eare,  is  sent  backe  againe.  Now  Dromio  his  shipp  by  a 
Bodene  tempest  was  brought  into  such  distresse  that  hardlie 
the  villeine  escaped  shipwracke.  But  this  was  my  fathers 
doeinge,  least  if  one  hadd  to  sodenly  arryved  after  the 
other,  yt  might  haue  bredd  some  disturbance  to  our  busi- 
nes. Now  is  he  comeing  hard  by,  as  Jocund  as  maie  for 
his  escape,  and  especyallie  by  cause  he  bringes  a  ringe  for 
a  token  from  his  maister  to  his  mistres,  and  Sosia  had 
none,  whome  his  hope  is  yet  to  preuent,  and  gett  the 
maidenhead  of  his  mistresses  thank es  for  his  good  tydinges. 
But  this  ringe  of  his  must  I  haue  by  some  deuise  from 
him,  and  then  send  him  after  his  fellowe  Sosia.  And  here 
he  comes. 


SCEN    III 

1  DBOMIO  liERCUBIUS 

(Dromio  in  habitu  nautico,   quo  difficilius  Tideri  possit  d  socio 
oognosci.) 

D.  Goe  to  Sea,  quoth  he!  An  ever  I  goe  to  sea  againe  lie 
saie  nothinge  but  let  me  be  hang'd  as  sone  as  I  come  on 
Land.  Trust  the  water  who  will  for  all  Dromio;  an 
they  trust  yt  neuer  soe  longe  I  am  sure  of  one  thinge, 
they  shall  finde  yt  but  a  ^slippery  thinge  in  the  ende. 
Well,  there  was  neuer  man  of  my  place,  as  yt  were  a  kind 
of  Bassiter   now  from   a  generall,    that    skapet  drown- 

tPol.  9  a. 


{tl4  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

inge  soe  narrow! ie  as  I  did.     And  yet  now  I  am  on  lande 
me-thinkes  I  could  even  all-most  laugh  at  the  fine  sporte 
the  winde  made  with  our  shipp  upon  the  water.     We  had  lo 
dauncinge,  I'faith,  our  bellies  full,  some  of  us.     I  neuer 
see  the  lyke  without  minstrells  in  my  lief.     They  talke  of 
the  backetricke:  I'faith,  our  shipp  fetcht  the  backe-tricke 
backward  and  forward,  to,  I  hope  neuer  to  see  the  lyke 
againe.      The  mayepole   snikepace,  otherwise   called  the 
wheelinge  galyard,  was  a  thinge  of  nothinge,  tryckes  of 
.15.  or  .16.  score  and  upwarde,  twoe  or  thre  furlonge  hie,  but 
a  tryfle.     And  this  was  shire  dauncinge,  besides  tumblinge 
and  other  strange  feates  of  Artillery.     In  the  meane-time 
we  in  the  shippe  practized  the  Amende  leape  from  oneao 
ende  to  the  other.     But  I  must  needes  confesse  all  did  yt 
not  alyke,  for  some  pytcht  on  their  feete,  some  on  their 
handes,  others  of  the  better  wyttes  thought  yt  not  amys  to 
light  on  theire  heades,  some  on  their  backes,  others  on 
their  shoulders.*     As  for  our  sayles,  poore  sailes,  they  were 
blowne  in  peices  for  all  the  world  lyke  wafer  cakes.     And 
the  maine  maste  snapt  in  twoe,  (actione,  hoc  exprimat  con- 
traria,  lignum  aliquod  aut  simile  tractans  pro  scirpo)  as  I  would 
snapp  a  rush.     I'faith,  I,  and  then  blowne  quite  out  of 
sight;   how  sale  you  by  that?     For  indeed  yt  was  soe  so 
darke  we  could  not  see  one  another.     Nay,  and  howe  we 
were  cozened!    I  would  not  haue  said  once  *God  a  marcy' 
to  him  that  would  haue  said  to  me,  'Dromio,  what  wilt 
thou  giue  me  if  I  will  carry  the  quicke  to  heauen. '   Whie, 
we  were  descended  once  so  neare  the  verye  skye,  look  ye, 
or  the  ferment  it-self,  that  if  our  shipp  had  had  but  hir 
mast  still,  to  haue  made  a  whole  there,  lord,  yt  had  bene 
the  easiest  leape  in  the  worlde.     But  see  the  deserte  of 
pride — pride  will  haue  a  fall,  saith  the  poet.     Soe  had  we. 
We   despised  to  heaven;  what  came  on't?     Marry,   we40 
came  downe  againe  with  a  vengeance  into  such  a  horrible 
untestable  abominacion,  fye  on't,  I  am  afraide  to  thinke 
on't  (mark  how  I  quiuer  yet,  good  people),  such  an  uglie 
black,  bottomles  hole  that  I  wold  willinglie  haue  growne 
to  exposicion  with  the  devill   and  giuen   the  foule  fien 
my  hinder  quarters  with  all  my  hart,  soe  he  would  have 

»  The  foUowlng  addition  is  inserted  in  the  margin  at  this  point:  ...  and  one 
did,  I  take  it,  the  Somersetshire  trick  fairly  oner;  but  indeed  he  near  cam  back 
againe. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  115 

lefte  me  my  head  and  my  fore  quarters  still.  But  the 
mortall  gods  did  resigne  me,  though  unworthie,  no  doubte, 
to  better  misfortune.     And  what  a  comfort  were  yt  to  me 

50  now  to  knowe  that  Sosia,  that  slaue,  were  sowst  as  well 
as  I.  But  me-thinkes  this  is  a  pestilent  longe  night ;  a 
man  might  haue  bene  hanged  and  drowned,  to,  this  night, 
and  aliue  and  drye  againe  by  the  morninge.  I  doe  not 
Eemember  that  ever  I  sawe  soe  longe^  a  night,  but  one 
when  I  was  once  whipt  all  night :  that  night  was  indeed  & 
redd  or  twoe  longer  then  this.  What  should  a  man  sale 
to  yt?  Are  the  9  pianettes  out  of  their  waie,  trowe  wee? 
Let  me  see;  the  7  muses  are  iust  in  the  same  place  still, 
where  they  were  at  midnight,  iust  in  the  same  place,  I, 

eo  mary,  are  they.  But  what  doe  I  forget  all  this  while?  I 
am  almost  at  home  and  yet  I  haue  not  pondered  with  my- 
self, how,  when  I  am  come  before  my  mistres,  in  most 
unsemely  manner,  in  f ewe  wordes,  to  dylate  my  message 
unto  her. 
M.  lAside.]  I  will  here  him  speake  his  mynde  bycause  I 
haue  no-thinge  els  to  doe.  Yet  I  meane  to  ease  him  of  his 
labor. 
D.  It  were  not  amisse  thus:  I,  thus,  or  thus  for  the  most 
parte.     I,  what  and  thus  altogether? 

"0  Madame,  7,  Dromio,  am  the  thrise  welcome  messenger  of 

my  Lord  and  Maisters,  your  Lord  and  husbands,  most  out- 
ragious  victory,  which  was  detayned,  partly  indeed  by  the 
policy  of  the  comon  souldiers,  but  most  specially  by  the  wor- 
thy induct  of  my  Lord  and  Maister,  your  Lord  a7id  husband, 

our  most  vincible  gcnerall,  who  most  valyantly  and  a 

wisely,  put  to  the  sword  hinge  Perilous  himself e  tuithhis  owne 
hands.    I  meane,  Madame,  and  the  sword  in  them.    I  would 

not  haue  yoio  take  me  otherwise.    After  which  most  a 

strange  fact  our  Enymies  were  slaine,  doe  you  marke,  our  foes 
seduced,  and  our  Aduersaries  slautered,  euery  man,  woman 
and  childe,  and  all  the  rest  taken  prisoners.'^ 
M.        [Aside.^     What,    and    all    slaine   to?     That  was  hard 

Justice. 
D.        This  will  serue  passinge  well,  but  litle  will  she  thinke 
when  I  can  tell  her  thus  much,  but  that  I  was  as  knuckle 

tFol.  9  b. 

*  Written  in  bolder  hand  to  indicate  italics. 


ao 


116  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

deepe  in  the  accion  as  the  rest,  when  god  knowes  I  stood- 
faire  and  farre  of. 

M.        [Aside.]     I,  god  is  thy  wytnes. 

D.  Where  I  spied  that  Coward  Sosia  lurkinge  behind  a  moule 
hill,  that  I  was  even  ashamed  to  see  him.  Now  if  he  hasw 
not  preuented  mo  I  am  a  made  man.  And  yet,  saie  he  has : 
alas,  he  comes  in  the  plaine  beaten  highe-waie  of  after  my 
harty  commendacions.  But  I  haue  here  the  verie  signet, 
with  one  of  my  maisters  owne  pretious  stones,  that  cannot  be 
but  welcome  to  my  Mistris,  besides  a  spetiall,  most  singiiler 
message,  that  this  hoope  he  sends  as  a  signe  of  ^his  spotted 
faith;  the  gould  should  present  his  crowne  of  victorie. 

M.        [Aside.]     This  is  iust  quite  contrarye. 

D.  Well,  here  is  our  house.  But  whoe  is  that  before  our  dore 
thus  late  in  the  night?  He  lay  my  lief  tis  Sosia,  and  he  is  loo 
not  yet  gott  in.  0,  that  I  knewe  that,  how  I  should  laugh 
at  him !  But,  now  I  remember  me.  He  put  up  my  ringe,  for 
tis  such  a  craftie  Jacke  that  if  he  sett  but  his  eye  on't  once, 
he  would  haue  it,  he  would  haue  yt,  he,  or  he  would  cozen 
me  of  finger  and  all.  I  will  make  as  though  I  did  not 
inowe  him. — What  art  thou,  good  fellowe,  that  art  here 
at  this  time  of  night? 

M.        What  sawceboxe  is  he  that  askes  me  this  question? 

D.  [Aside.]  'Sawcebox,'  quoth  he,  at  the  first  dash?  By  the 
masse,  I  am  vildly  affraid  I  am  in  a  wronge  boxe.  By  the  no 
phrase,  marke  ye,  this  should  not  be  he.  Can  a  man  tell 
whether  I  had  best  proceed  or  noe?  This  night  and  if  a 
man  shold  chaunce  to  quarrell  he  might  as  sone  strike, 
doe  you  see,  his  freind  as  his  foe.  Well  I  am  dessolued  to 
be  ciuill  for  this  once,  what-soeuere  come  ont. — None  but 
a  freind  of  yours. 

M.  Freind  me  no  freindes.  An  he  be  his  owne  freind  he 
had  best  spend  his  time  some- where  els,  and  not  trouble 
me  that  haue  other  thinges  to  thinke  on. 

D.        [Aside.]    Tis  he,  I'faith;  I  knowe  by  that.     There  be  120 
others  have  some  thinge  to  thinke  on  to  as  well  as  he. 
I  see  by  this  tyme  how  I  shall  put  him  downe  to  a-none.-^ 
Your  freind  and  fellowe,  Sir,  goe  to. 

M.        My  fellowe? 

B.        [Aside.]     He  is  affraied  of  me  alreadie:  I  see  the  slaue 
tFoL  10  a. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  117 

would  not  be  knowne. — I,  your  fellowe,  soe  I  sale,  an  your 
name  be  Sosia ;  I  knowe  you  well  enough. 

M.        Are  you  sure  you  knowe  me? 

D.        0  lord,  Sir,  ys  it  not  you  that  laye  skulkinge  behinde  a 
130         moule-hill  all  the  time  we  were  a-fighting? 

M.        [Aside,]     He  hould  a  wager  tis  Dromio.     'All  the  time 

we  were  a-figh tinge,'  quoth  he.     By  that  same  token, 

thou  ranst  awaie  soe  fast  that  thou  lokedst  but  once 
behinde  the  till  the  battell  was  done.  I'faith,  fellowe 
Dromio,  you  are  soe  muffeld  up  I  shold  ^scarce  haue  knowne 
you  in  the  darke  had  not  you  discouered  yourself.  But 
you  are  come  in  good  tyme,  for  I  haue  bene  a  vilde*  while 
lokinge  for  you  and  after  you. 

D.        For  me?    And  whie  for  me?     A  man  would  thinke  you 
140         had  some-what  els  to  doe. 

M.        What,  man? 

D.        To  lyver  a  certeine  message  to  my'lady  Alcumena. 

M.  Why,  man,  that  message  was  deliuered  fine  houres  agoe  at 
least.  And  I  haue  bene  with  my  lord  since  to  desire  a  token 
from  him  to  my  lady,  for  without,  she  will  not  beleiue 
me. 

D.  Marry,  I  cannot  blame  her.  She  has  reason,  I  thinke: 
beleiue  the,  that  saist  thou  hast  bene  here  &  there  and  there 
and  here  againe,  and  all  in  fine  houres !  What  a  monstrous 
150  lye  is  that !  Fellowe  Sosia,  in  f ewe  wordes,  I  am  ashamed 
to  heare  the,  but  as  concerninge  foresaid  token,  sure  some 
rare  token,  may  a  man  see  yt? 

M.        Whie,  I  was  tellinge  of  you,  if  you  would  haue  let  me  gone 
on;  he  badd  me  make  hast  to  ouertake  you,  and  take  of  you 
a  certeine  ringe  he  gaue  you  to  deliuer  her. 
(Subito^  animi  constematio  appareat  in  Dromione) 

D.  A  ringe  of  me?  You  take  a  ringe  of  me?  I  shall  never 
digest  yt.  You  take  a  halter ;  I,  take  my  lief  first.  What 
should  I  doe  then,  can  you  tell? 

M.        You  presentlie  should  retume,  as  I  take  yt,  to  haue  cer- 
180         teine  prisonners  Commytted  to  your  charge. 

D.  I,  lyke  enough  to  be  a  Jailor;  I  am  fitt  for  nothinge 
els,  I.  If  I  haue  the  ringe  now,  I  doe  not  finde  in  my-self 
but  that  I  shall  kepe  y t ;  kepe  you  the  prisoners  an  you 
will ;  I  skome  the  trade,  I. 

tFol.  10 b.  »  Looks  like  "wilde  "  in  MS.  «  Written  "subita"  in  MS. 


118  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

M.  Alas,  fellowe  Dromio,  be  not  offended  with  me;  I  doe 
but  my  masters  message. 

D.  A  ringe  of  me?  God  forgiue  me,  I  shall  neuer  forgett 
yt.  I  doe  not  thinke  he  knowes  I  haue  a  ringe  for  all 
his  sayinge,  an  he  were  well  examyned. 

M.        Yes,  and  can  tell  you  the  markes  of  it  to,  or  els  let  me  i70 
not  haue  it. 

D.  No,  you  shall  not.  He  warrant  you.  But  you  can  tell  the 
markes,  you?  He  try  that  by  and  by.  If  yt  haue  a  stone 
now,  as  parenter  I,  parenter  no,  what  manner  of  stone  male 
yt  be? 

M.         Whie,  a  f aire  pointed  dyamond. 

fl).       A  faire  pointed  dyamond!     Ha,  ha,  he! 

M.        Whie,  what  aile  you,  man? 

D.  *A  faire  pointed  dyamond'!  Ha,  ha,  he!  Nay,  you  are  in 
the  right,  you  are  in  the  right,  you  haue  hit  it ;  '  a  faire  i80 
pointed  Diamond',  quoth  he !  But  that  I  am  angry  with  him 
for  lyinge,  how  Could  I  laugh  at  him!  *A  faire  pointed 
dyamond!'  And  first,  tis  an  adamant,  for  soe  my  lord  said 
himself  when  he  lyuered  it  to  me.  Or  saie  an  adamant 
and  a  Dyamond  be  all  one,  as  I  do  not  greatlie  stand  upon 
that ;  he  sales  tis  faire,  and  the  stone  is  a  plaine  bale  or  a 
sheepes  russett,  which  you  will ;  and  he  sales  tis  pointed, 
and  the  deuill  a  pointe  is  there  at  yt. 

M.  Whie,  thou  mistakes  me,  man.  Let  me  see  it,  and  I  will 
shewe  the  how  1  meane.  loo 

D.  It  male  be  soe,  but  I  doe  not  meane  to  let  you  see  yt  for 
all  that,  unles  you  can  tell  me  one  thinge,  bycause  you  saie 
you  were  bidden  to  take  yt.  Tell  me  that,  goe  to  and  take 
yt.     [Aside.]    He  will  as  sone  be  hanged  as  he  can  tell  yt. 

M.        Whats  that? 

D.        The  message  that  is  to  be  liuered  withall. 

M.  This  is  a  strange  thinge  that  we  fellowes  shold  soe  mis- 
trust one  another. 

D.  Nay,  neare  goe  about  to  synuate by  *we  fellowes,'  but  tell 
yt,  and  take  yt.  200 

M.  An  you  will  needes  knowe,  he  badde  me  tell  her  the 
hoope  represented  his  garland  of  victorie,  the  gould  his 
spotles  affeccion. 

D.         (dolenter  &  cum  suspirio)     I  must  needes  confesse  twas 
tFol.  11  a. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  119 

much  theraboutes,  and  yet  yt  cannot  sinke  into  my  heade 

that  he  could  possiblie  be  there  and  heare,  and  heare  and 

there  againe,  in  fine  houres.     "Well,  since  I  haue  giuen  my 

word,  here  take  yt.     I  stand  upon  my  worde,  I  tell  you, 

fellow  Sosia. 
210  M.        I  see  you  doe,  and  I  commend  you  for  yt. 

D         And  to  saie  the  truth,  tis  more  to  ones  imputacion  to 

haue  the  custodie  of  prisoners,  doe  you  see,  then  to  lyver  a 

message  that  euery  simple  f ellowe  can  doe.     Fellowe  Sosia, 

I  giue  you  the  ringe  with  all  my  harte.     But  doe  you  heare, 

you  are  sure  you  were  bidden  to  take  yt? 
M.        Make  you  a  question  of  yt? 
fD.      Noe,  I  do  not  neither;  nay,  take  yt,  I'faith,  with  all  my 

harte.    But  you  saie  you  are  sure  my  Lordes  honours  wour- 

Bhips  pleasure  is  it  should  be  see? 
220  M.        I^ay,  then. 

D.        Nay,  I  beleiue  you.     I  speake  not  for  that.     I 'truth  you 

haue  it  with  all  my  harte. 
M.        I  knowe  you  haue. 
D.        I,  indeed  haue  you,  for  you  saie  he  badd  you  take  yt ;  but 

thats  all  one.     But  for  those  same  prisoners,  can  you  tell 

what  men  of  qualitie  are  amonge  them? 
M.        0,  great  men,  certeine. 
D.        I'faith? 

M.        I,  I  male  tell  you  theres  not  one  of  them  but  since  the 
230         last  kinges  death  is  next  to  the  crowne. 

D.        Awaye,  awaye!     Fellowe  Sosia,  that  same  ringe — 

M.        What  of  that? 

D.        I'faith,  thou  hast  yt  with  all  my  harte. 

M.        I  make  no  question  on't. 

D.        But,  sirra,  euery  one  next  the  crowne? 

M.        Euery  one. 

D.        0  rare!     And  they  shall  finde  me  as  mylde  and  seveare  a 

Comaunder  as  they  would  wish. 
M.        I  am  assured  of  yt. 
240 D.        Well,  fellowe  Sosia,  farewell;  and  thou  knowest  what  I 

saide?     Withall  my  harte. 
M.        What  needes  that?     I  more  then  beleiue  the. 
D.        Adiew,  good  fellowe  Sosia.  [Exit, 

M.        Adieu,  good  fellowe  wood-cocke.     Soe  now  we  are  on 
tFol.  lib.  "~~~~~ 


120  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCUL^ES 

reare  bord.  Now  this  foole  is  but  awaie  to,  here  wilbe  no 
sturre  a-none,  for  poore  Amphitruo,  what  with  his  men  and 
what  with  his  wief ,  never  was  vyctorious  generall  see  wel- 
comed home.  But  since  yt  soe  falls  out  for  my  fathers 
pleasure,  he  that  can  do  all  will  in  the  ende  make  all 
good,  with  a  generall  contentment,  especyally  to  Amphitruo,  250 
whome  he  will  enrich  for  amendes  with  twoe  worthie,  but 
one  incomparable  sonne,  whoe  shalbe  named  Hercules, 
Both  shalbe  borne  at  a  time,  though  they  were  not  con- 
ceiued  at  a  tyme.  But  ^soe  it  is  my  fathers  will  to  make 
Alcumenas  labour  but  single  for  a  double  birth.  In  the 
meane-tyme  must  I  goe  on,  as  my  duety  is,  to  doe  my  father 
seruice  to  the  end. 


ScEN  nil 

JUPITER  ALCUMEN^A.  MERCURIU8 

(Remember  That  the  cup  be  heere  in  readines.) 

J.         Fare-well,  my  best  beloued  Alcumena.     I  praie  the  look 

well  to  thy-self ;  thy  time,  thou  seest,  drawes  on  a-pace,  and 

that  that  god  sendes  us,  sweet-harte,  make  much  ont. 

I  must  be  gone. 
A.        Alas,  my  Lord,  whats  the  reason  of  this,  that  you  are 

gone  soe  sone  againe? 
J.         Not,  my  loue,  that  I  am  weary  of  thee,  or  of  beinge  at 

home,  but  how  can  all  doe  well  with  soe  greate  an  Army 

when  tis  without  a  generall? 
M.        [Aside,]     My  father  is  excellent  at  this  counterf eytinge ;  10 

marke  him,  I  praie  you,  how  queintlie  he  comes  in  with 

'Alcumena'. 
A.        I  may  see  by  this  how  litle  you  care  for  me. 
J.         It  is  enough  if  there  be  none  under  the  sonne  I  care  for 

soe  much. 
A.        I  had  rather  see  this  then  here  of  yt.     Our  bed  is  scarse 

warme,  yet  twas  midnight  when  you  came,  and  you  are 

gone  alreadie.    I,  could  this  be,  if  you  loued  me  as  you  sale? 
M.        [Aside,]    I  thinke  I  had  best   stepp  in  and  help  my 

tFol.  12  a. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  121 

so         father. — Madame,  I  doe  not  thinke,  if  I  should  be  put  to 

swere,  that  euer  man  in  this  world  loued  woman  soe  well 

as  my  master  doth  you. 
J.         Now,  sir,  who  sent  for  you?     You  must  be  prating. 

A.        Good  my  Lord,  I  praie  you  doe  not 

J.         Mumble,  you  had  best. 

M.        [Aside.]     I  doe  not  lyke  this  begining  half  well. 

J.         But,  my  dearest  Aleumena,  what  reason  hast  thou  to  be 

angrie  with  me?    Did  I  not  steale  this  tyme  from  my  whole 

Army,  to  bestowe  yt  on  the,  that  by  my  owne  mouth  thou 
30         mightest  first  understand  how  all  hath  succeeded?    Would 

I  haue  done  thus,  thinkes  thou,  if  I  did  not  loue  the? 
M.        [Aside.]     Could  a  man  deuise  to  flatter  more  coningly? 
t  J.       Now  I  must  needes  priuilie  Convey  my-self  backe  againe, 

as  I  stole  awaie,  that  it  be  not  knowne,  which  I  would  not 

for  any  thinge. 
A.        I  knowe  not  how  you  will  goe.     I  am  sure  you  make  me 

weepe  to  see  you  gone  soe  sone. 
J.         I  pray  the,  be  contente ;  I  will  presently  returne  againe. 
A.        I,  that  'presently'  will  be  to  longe. 
40  J,         Doest  thou  thinke  yt  pleases  me  to  part  from  the,  if  I 

could  chuse? 
A.       No,  yt  is  not  lykely,  when  you  goe  awaie  the  same  night 

you  came. 
J.         Whie  doest  thou  hould  me?     I  must  needes  be  gone 

before  the  dale  appeare.     In  the  meane-time,  for  a  pawne 

of  my  speedie  returne,  and  a  remembrance  while  I  am 

awaie,  I  will  giue  the  the  same  cuppe  kinge  Pterelas  himself 

dranke  in,  whome  I  slewe. 
(Cupp) 
A.        I  had  rather  haue  you  stale. 
50  J,         Thou  seest  I  cannot. — Sirra,  bringe  the  cupp  hither  I 

gaue  you  to  keepe. 
M.        Here,  Sir. 

J.         How  now,  Aleumena ;  how  lyke  you  this? 
A.        This  is  guift  indeed  lyke  him  that  gaue  yt. 
M.        Or  rather,  Madame,  lyke  her  tis  giuen  unto. 
J.         Sirra,  will  you  neuer  hould  your  peace? 
A.        Good  Amphitruo,  be  not  angrie  with  Sosia,  for  my  sake. 
J.         I  am  content  for  this  once. 


r'?2  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

M.        [Aside.]    Lord,  how  fearse  my  father  is  growne  with  this 
same  loue.  eo 

J.         Haste  thou  any-thinge  now  to  comaunde  me? 

A.        I  would  intreat  you,  Sir,  to  loue  me  still  when  you  are 
gone,  though  I  be  absent. 

M.        Sir,  tis  more  then  time  we  were  gone,  for  dale  begins  to 
peepe. 

J.  Goe  you  before,  sir;   He  come  after  you.      [Exit  Mer- 

cury.]— "What  wilt  thou  els? 

A.         Nothinge  but  that  you  returne  as  sone  as  you  can. 
(Ilia  dolenter  incedit) 

J.  I  warrant  the  I  wilbe  here  eare  thou  lokest  for  me. 
Farewell.  [Exit  Alcumena.] — Now,  night,  thou  hast  staled 70 
my  leasure  this  longe,  I  giue  the  leaue  to  giue  place  to  dale, 
and  soe  much  as  thou  wert  longer  then  thou  shouldest  be, 
soe  much  shorter  be  the  next  dale  that  order  may  be  kept 
still.     Now  I  foUowe  Mercury. 


fACTUS   SECUNDUS 

SCEK   I 
ALCUMENA  THE8SALA 

A.  They  talk  of  pleasure,  but  the  pleasure  of  a  womans  lief, 
I  am  sure,  is  litle  enough  if  yt  be  compared  with  her  crosses. 
The  seueare  stricktnes  of  our  educacion,  the  bondage  after, 
if  our  husbandes  be  not  better,  the  wrongfull  suspicions 
and  accusations  to,  now  and  then  we  passe  through  in  our 
lief  time,  the  paine  we  endure  before  we  haue  children,  the 
care  after,  the  generall  weaknes  of  our  sexe, — these  be  ordi- 
nary complaintes  of  all  weomen.  But  there  is  one  crosse 
that  mostely  attendes,  though  not  onely,  upon  us  that  are 

10  '^  the  greater,  and  it  is  the  greater  crosse, — the  ordinarie 
absence  of  our  husbandes,  which  in  the  manner  is  dobled  to. 
For  were  they  absent  onely  in  ambassage,  or  as  traueylers, 
or  as  merchantes,  yet  they  might  leaue  us  hart-easinge 
hope  at  home  to  accompanie  us  till  their  returne.  But 
beinge  absent  as  souldiers  they  leaue  us  pale  feare,  a  pas- 
sion that  we  are  lesse  hable  to  endure  then  greif.  They 
might  as  well  quite  leaue  us,  for  our  greatest  greif  is  to 
feare,  and  tis  feare  thats  death  to  us.  If  we  be  dead  once 
what  can  sorowe  doe  us  harme?     "VMiat  saieth  thou,  Thes- 

ao  *  sala,  is  not  this  true?  I  knowe  thou  louest  not  Sosia  soe 
litle  but  thou  hast  hadd  a  taste  of  eich  of  these  since  he 
was  last  with  the. 
T.  Indeed,  Madame,  I  must  needes  confesse  the  truth,  I 
haue.  And  though  we  be  not  married  together,  I  am  sure 
his  absence,  beinge  in  so  daungerous  an  ymployment 
especyallie,  hath  gone  as  nere  my  hart  as  if  we  had  bene. 
And  if  I  durst,  when  your  Ladiship  has  sighed  some-times, 
I  could  haue  found  in  my  harte  to  haue  borne  you  companie. 
0,  there  cannot  be  such  a  crosse  in  the  world  to  a  woman  as 

t  Pol.  13  a. 

123 


124  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

to  parte  from  her  husband.  Whie,  Mistres,  he  is  the  hns-ao' 
band  of  her  bosome ;  when  he  is  gone,  alas,  how  can  she 
but  be  naked?  He  is  her  propp  and  uphoulder ;  take  him 
awaie,  she  cannot  chuse  but  fall.  Besides,  a  souldier  is  to 
his  wief  a  sheild  and  a  buckler  to ;  remoue  him,  and  she 
will  lye  open  straight  to  all  assaultes. 

A.        T'were  pittybut  thouhaddest  a  husband,  Thessala;  thou 
couldest  perswade  him  soe  well  to  staie  at  home. 

T.        I,  and  t'were  not  for  Sosia  and  my  maister  (I  cry  you 
mercy,  mistres) — my  master   and    Sosia,  I    should  haue 
saide — I  would  not  care  if  all  these  souldiers  were  hanged,  4a 
to  giue  example  *to  others  to  keepe  better  at  home  with 
their  wiues. 

A.  That  were  to  hard,  Thessala;  rather  thou  shouldest  wish 
them  lamed,  soe  they  should  be  sure  to  staie  at  home. 
[Aside,]  She  makes  me  merry  to  heare  hir  how  emest 
she  is,  and  yet  I  can  not  put  awaie  the  thought  of  my 
lordes  so  sodeine  departure. — Thessala,  goe  you  in;  I  will 
foUowe  you.  [Bxit  Thessala.]  To  staie  but  one  poore 
night!  nay,  had  it  bene  all  that,  that  were  some-thinge. 
But  one  peice  of  a  night !  I,  and  that  a  litle  peice  to !  sa 
[Wallcing  tip  and  down.]  Now  am  I  more  discontented 
with  his  departure  then  me-thought  I  was  ioyed  with  his 
comeinge.  Yet  this,  I  must  needes  sale,  comfortes  me  not 
a  litle — the  honour  my  Lord  hath  gotten  by  his  victorie. 
To  heare  him  soe  well  spoken  of  by  every-bodie !  And  if 
we  weomen  loue  honour  soe  well  as  men  sale  we  doe,  then 
must  this  needs  be  pleasinge  unto  us,  to  heare  them  mag- 
nified, whoe  beinge  parte  of  us,  cannot  chuse  but  part  their 
honours  with  us.  Yet  me-thinkes  to,  honour,  to  sale  the 
truth,  is  but  a  shadowe,  and  shadowes  please  children  and  ea 
fooles  indeed.  But  giue  me  the  substance.  The  eye  is  the 
truest  harbinger  of  loue.  I  had  rather  see  my  Lord  still, 
I,  then  heare  of  him.  But  now  I  must  be  content;  t'will 
not  be  longe  ere  heretume;  I,  soe  he  said  to  please  me. 
Well,  I  see  walkinge  will  not  put  out  this  melancholic  out 
of  my  heade.  I  will  goe  in  and  trye  another  while  what 
working  can  doe. 

+  F0I.  13  b. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  126 


SCEK  II 
AMPHITRUO  BOBIA 

A.        Come  your  waies  after  me. 

S.         I  will  follows  you,  Sir,  I  warrant  you,  hard  at  the  heeles. 

A.        I  doe  not  thinke  there  was  ever  yet  such  a  villeyne  hard 

of  as  this. 
S.         Whie  soe,  Sir,  I  beseech  you? 
A.        Whie,  thou  wouldest  make  me  beleiue  that,  that  neither 

is,  nor  was,  nor  can  be. 
S.         This  is  your  ould  wont  not  to  beleue  your  poore  serv- 

auntes,  speake  they  neuer  soe  truely. 
10  A.        Sirra,  doe  not  iustifie  this ;  you  had  best  an  you  doe. 
S.         Nay,  the  lawe  is  in  your  handes ;   use  me  as  you  thinke 

good.     Yet  you  shall  neuer  make  me  affraied  to  tell  you 

what  I  see  with  these  eyes, 
f  A.      Why,  thou  shameles  slaue,  darest  thou  saie  to  me  that 

thou  art  now  at  home  that  art  here? 
S.         Sir,  I  dare  saie  it,  and  will  stand  to  it,  that  it  is  most  true. 
A.        Doest  thou  longe  for  a  beatinge? 
S.         For  that  as  yt  please  you.  Sir.     I  am  yours,  yet  I  must 

not,  nor  will  not,  be  affraied  to  speake  the  truth. 
20  A.        Doest  thou  but  thinke  what  it  is  to  floute  thy  maister? 

Darest  thou  aflfirme  to  me  soe  certeinly  that  which  yet 

neuer  man  sawe,  that  one  man  should  be  in  twoe  places? 
S.         Sir,  as  I  haue  tould  you,  soe  you  shall  finde  yt. 
A.        What,  that  thou  art  here  and  there  to,  man?    Wilt  thou 

stand  to  this? 
S.         And  you  proue  me  a  Iyer,  then  speake  your  pleasure ;  in 

the  meane-tyme,  would  you  would  not  thinke  of  me  other- 
wise then  I  haue  deserued. 
A.        Out  of  doubt  this  fellowe  is  drunke. 
30  S.         Would  I  were  els  for  my  owne  sake. 
A.        Nay,  then,  I  warrant  the  thou  hast  thie  wish. 
S.         Haue  I,  Sir? 

A.        I,  and  you  had  best  tell  me,  to,  where  you  drunke  last. 
S.         It  may  be  you  will  not  beleiue  me,  but  He  be  sworne  I 

drunk  not  since  I  was  last  in  your  tent. 
A.        What  might  this  meane? 

+  Fol.  14  a. 


126  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

S.  Alas,  Sir,  I  haue  tould  you  often  enough,  and  will  tell 
you  againe,  an  yt  will  doe  you  anie  good.  I,  Sosia,  am  now 
at  home,  but  I,  the  same,  am  here  with  you.  This  is  plaine 
enough,  I  thinke.  40 

A.  Well,  I  see  then  thou  art  madde  * ;  it  is  no  more  dealinge 
with  the. 

S.  Sir,  I  am  well  in  my  wytts,  what-soeuer  you  thinke,  and 
knowe  what  I  sale  well  enough. 

A.  Then  shalt  thou  be  hanged  for  lyinge.  Tis  a  plaine 
case :  thou  hast  neclected  to  doe  my  commaundement,  and 
now  thou  thiakest  to  come  &  flapp  me  in  the  teeth  with  such 
a  lye.  As  thou  doest  me  more  wronge  in  thinkinge  I  will 
beleiue  yt  then  in  bare  tellinge  of  it  to  excuse  thie-selfe, 
confesse  the  truth,  you  had  best.  so 

S.  Can  a  poor  servaunte  endure  greater  misery  then  this, 
when  he  tells  the  truth  to  be  ouer-borne  by  forse? 

t  A.  Whie,  I  praie  the,  come  and  reason  the  matter  with  me  a 
ly tie,  if  perchance  thou  hast  any  reason ;  how  doest  thou 
thinke  yt  can  possiblie  be  that  thou  shouldest  now  be  both 
here  and  at  home  at  the  same  time. 

S.  Tis  enough,  Sir,  that  I  knowe  1  am  both  here  and  there. 
And  you  may  maruell  as  much  as  you  will,  and  when  you 
haue  done,  you  maruell  not  more  then  I  maruell  at  it  my- 
self, eo 

A.        How? 

S.  Marry,  I  saie,  I  maruell  at  yt  as  much  as  you,  for  by  this 
good  light  I  did  [not?]  at  the  first  beleiue  this  Sosia  my-self, 
untill  I  my-self  that  am  there  did  make  me  beleiue  him, 
he  did  soe  perfytlie  tell  me  what-soeuer  was  done  here. 
Besides  he  has  my  shape  as  well  as  my  name.  And,  Sir, 
proue  that  one  dropp  of  milke  be  lyker  an-other  then  he 
and  I  are  together,  and  take  this  head  from  my  shoulders. 
Whie,  I  will  tell  you — Sir,  when  you  sent  me  from  the 
haven,  would  you  thinke  yt?  to 

A.        What? 

S.         I  was  at  home  a  great  while  before  I  came  there. 

A.        Doest  thou  understand  thy-self  well  what  thou  saiest? 

S.  Me-thinkes  I  speake  soe  plainlie,  sir,  that  any  man  may 
understand  me. 

A.         [Aside.]    I  cannot  tell  what  to  make  of  this :  some-times 

»  Written  "made"  in  MS.  t  Fol.  14  b. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  127 

me-thinkes  he   should  be   drunck,    sometimes  madd,  or 
perhapps  he  is  bewitcht. — Hath  not  some  unlucky  hand 
light  upon  the? 
«o  S.         Yes,  that  there  hath,  a  couple,  on  my  word.     For  I  was 
neuer  better  beaten  since  my  name  was  Sosia. 

A.        Who  should  beat  the? 

S.         I,  sir,  that  am  at  home  beat  my-self. 

A.  Can  a  man  endure  this  any  longer?  Sirra,  answere  me  a 
question  or  twoe,  and  se  you  speake  not  a  word  but  as  I  ask 
you.  First,  this  same  Sosia  you  speak  of,  what  should 
he  be? 

S.         He  is  your  man. 

A.        My  man,  villeine?    Whie  I  haue  to  many  of  the  name  by 
90         the  alreadie,  and  but  the  I  had  neuer  any  in  my  lief. 

S.  Well,  this  Sosia  is  your  man,  and  soe  you  shall  finde  him 
when  you  come  home.  I,  he  is  Dauus  his  sonne ;  he  has 
my  face ;  he  is  of  my  yeares.  In  a  word.  Sir,  your  Sosia  is 
no  longer  a  single  but  a  double  Sosia. 

A.       Thou  tellst  me  strange  thinges ;  but  didst  thou  se  my  wief  ? 

S.  How  could  I  see  hir  when  I  could  not  be  suffred  to  come 
in? 

t  A.        Whoe  let  the? 

S.         That  same  Sosia  I  tould  you  of. 
100  A.        What  Sosia,  man? 

S.  I,  my-self,  Sir;  how  often  shall  I  tell  you?  I  would 
haue  beleiued  you  in  half  this  time. 

A.       Tell  me,  didst  thou  not  sleepe  latelie? 

S.         Not  I,  Sir. 

A  Art  thou  sure  ont?  Perhaps  in  a  dreame  thou  mightest 
see  all  this. 

S.         Tis  not  my  wont.  Sir,  soe  sleepilie  to  doe  your  busines. 
I  tell  you  I  was  watchinge  when  I  see  him,  and  he  was 
watchinge  when  he  watcht  me  a  good  time,  and  beat  me 
no         almost  asleep  for  watchinge  soe  late. 

A.        Whoe  beate  the? 

S.  Nay,  then,  we  shall  neuer  have  done.  In  fewe  wordes, 
Sir,  I  beat  my-self ;  doe  you  not  yet  understand  me? 

A.  Understand  the?  Who  could  understand  such  a  madd 
f oole  as  thou  art,  that  talkest  thus  Idlely  of  thinges  impos- 
sible? 

tPol.l5a. 


128  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

S.         Be  content  a  while,  Sir,  and  you  shall  see  how  impossible 

they  bee. 
A.        What  shall  I  see? 

S.         The  fore-said  Sosia,  your  man.  120 

A.        "Well,  come  your  waies  after  me.   You  haue  brought  that 

I  badd  you  out  of  the  ship? 
S.         I  haue  yt  here  readie  for  you.  Sir. 
A         We  shall  see  anone,  I  hope,  what  this  geare  will  come  to» 


SCEN    III 

ALCUMBNA 

AMPHITRUO 

SOSIA 

THE8SALA 

(Remember  That  the  casket  be  in  readines.) 

Al.  [Aside.]  This  workinge  makes  me  thinke  of  Penelope, 
how  prettie  a  deuice  she  found,  good  Lady,  to  preserve  her- 
self against  soe  manie  temptations,  in  soe  longe  absence  of 
her  beloued  Vlisses.  No  doubt  she  wrought  lyke  a  work- 
woman haveinge  accustomed  her  hand  to  it.  I  make  wise 
worke,  now  my  mynde  is  of  another  matter. 

f  Am.   It  ioyes  me  to  thinke  how  kinde  a  welcome  I  shall  haue 
of  my  f aire  and  lovinge  Alcumena  after  my  longe  absence : 
poore  soule,  I  dare  sale  she  has  thought  it  longe.    But  the 
good  successe  I  bringe  with  me,  and  the  honour  of  my  vie- 10 
tory,  that  shall  plead  my  excuse. 

S.         I  hope  we  shall  finde  them  will  bidd  us  welcome  to. 

Al.       [Aside.]     Is  not  yon  my  husband? 

Am.     Sirra,  se  you  followe  me. 

S.         I  doe  not  meane,  Sir,  to  goe  before  you. 

Al.  [Aside.]  What  might  the  cause  be  of  his  soe  suddeine 
returne?  I  hope  he  doth  yt  but  to  trie  me,  how  much  I 
desire  his  presence.  And  well  may  he  think  he  shalbe 
welcome. 

S.         Sir,  I  thinke  yt  were  even  best  for  us  to  goe  backesa 
againe  to  our  shipp. 

Am.     And  whie  soe,  Sir? 

S.  For  we  are  lyke  to  haue  no  dynner  here :  I  see  my  ladies 
belly  yonder  is  full  alreadie. 

tFol.  15  b. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  12& 

Am.     Indeed  yt  should  be  soe,  for  I  lefte  her  quicke  when  I 

went  last  from  heuce. 
Al.       [Aside.]     It  is  my  duety  to  goe  towardes  him. 
Am.     Amphitruo    salutes    his    welbeloued   wief,   li'home  all 

Thebes  reporte  of  for  her  vertue.     What  sales  Alcumena? 
30         Am  I  welcome? 
Al,       I  hope,  Sir,  you  make  no  doubt  of  your  welcome,  though 

you  please  to  aske  me  the  question. 
Am.     It  doth  me  good  to  see  this  faire  bellie  soe  well  risen, 

since  I  see  the  last. 
Al.       It  semes,  my  Lord,  you  are  disposed  to  be  merry;  and 

ys  it  soe  longe,  I  praie  you,  since  you  see  me  laste? 
Am.     Ever  since  I  set  forth  out  of  Thebes  with  our  Army,  tis 

soe  longe. 
Al.       Whie  sale  you  soe.  Sir? 
40 Am.     Bycause  I  haue  learned  of  a  boye  to  speake  truth,  wief; 

wouldest  thou  haue  me  tell  a  lye? 
Al.       Sir,  you  doe  well  to  keep  that  lesson  still.     But  would  I 

might  be  soe  bould  as  to  ask  you  in  ernest  what  makes  you 

returne  soe  speedie;  you  tould  me,  but  even  now,  you  must 

in  all  hast  be  gonne  back  to  your  Armye. 
Am.     How,  even  now? 
f  Al.     Doe  you  this  to  try  me?     Even  very  now,  but  a  while 

since. 
Am.     How  doest  thou  meane  *but  a  while  since?' 
so  Al.       Sir,  though  it  please  you  to  make  me  your  playe-f  ellowe  at 

other  tymes,  I  am  now  in  good  ernest.    And  doe  you  make 

strange  of  yt,  that    I  sale  you  went  but  euen  now  from 

hence? 
Am.     Out  of  doubtt  this  woman  dotes. 
S.         0,  tis  nothiuge,  Sir  but  want  of  sleepe  in  impatience  for 

your  absence ;  stale  but  till  she  hath  slept  a  litle,  and  He 

warrant  you  she  wilbe  better  come  to  her-self . 
Al.       Truely,  I  thank  the  godes  I  need  no  sleepe,  but  am  well 

aduised  what  I  sale,  and  well  knowe  that  both  he  and  you 
CO         were  here  with  me  this  night,  and  gone  againe  by  breake  of 

dale. 
Am.     In  what  place? 

Al.       Here  in  your  house  where  you  dwell. 
Am.     Doe  not  sale  soe,  for  we  were  neuer  here. 

+Fol.  16  a. 


130  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

S.         0,  Sir,  you  male  be  deceiued.  What  if  our  shipp  brought 

us  hither  asleepe  and  we  neuer  knewe  of  yt? 
Am.     Must  you  helpe  the  matter  to? 
S.         [Aside.]     I  helpe  her,  quoth  he.      I'faith,  tis  but  in 

charytie.     She  is  madd  alreadie,  and  doe  but  crosse  her  a 

lytle  it  is  the  next  waie  to  put  her  quite  out  of  her  witts.  to 
Am.     [Aside.]      I  cannot    take    this    in    good    parte,  that 

returninge  but  now  where  I  expected  soe  much  kindnes 

after  soe  longe  absence,  she  would  not  soe  much  as  salute 

me. — Wief,  I  praie  the,  tell  me  one  thinge. 
Al.       What,  Sir,  I  praie  you? 

Am.     Is  it  pride — this  in  you,  or  extremitie  of  folly? 
Al.       What  meane  you  to  aske  me  this,  Sir? 
Am.     Bycause    you   were    wonte   ever    when   I   hadd    bene 

abroade,  kindelie  to  welcome  me  at  my  comeinge  home ; 

me-thinkes  that  fashion  is  quite  forgotten  now.  w 

Al.     I  am  sure.  Sir,  I  did  salute  you  at  your  firste  Comeinge  as 

kindely  as  I  could. 
S.         Did  you  salute  him,  Madame?    When,  I  praie  you? 
Al.       I,  and  you  to,  Sosia;   tis  not  soe  longe  since  that  you 

should  forgett  yt. 
f  S.       Well,  master,  I  am  sory  for  nothinge  but  for  your  Childe 

there. 
Am.     Whie  for  my  Childe,  man? 

S.         Twill  proue  a  madd  childe,  and  'take  after  the  mother. 
Al.       Whats  that,  sir,  that  you  sale?     'After  the  mother?'        m 
S.         Nothinge,  I,  Madame,  but  that  I  wish  your  childe  may 

no[t]  take  after  the  mother. 
Al.       And  whie  not  after  the  mother^ 
S.         0,  madame,  bycause  my  Lord  hath  soe  often  wisht  for  a 

boye;  yt  should  be  a  girle  an  it  should  take  after  you. 
Am.     Sirra,  hould  your  pratinge.     Tell  me,  wief,  are  you  sure 

you  see  me  here  yesternight? 
Al.       Sir,  I  did,  and  marvell  much  whie  you  should  soe  often 

aske  me  the  question. 
Am.     In  your  dreame,  perhapps.  loo 

Al.       Even  as  broade  awake  as  I  see  you  now. 
Am.     Alas,  what  shall  I  doe? 
S.         Whie,  what  ails  you,  Sir? 
Am.     My  wief,  questionles,  is  madd. 

tFoLlCb. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  131 

S.         Doe  but  let  her  bloud  a  litle  in  the  braine,  and,  of  my 

worde,  she  wilbe  sober  straight. 
Am.     Woman,  tell  me  where  didst  thou  feele  this  humor  first 

seaze  upon  the? 
Al.       I  cannot  tell  what  humor  you  meane.    I  am  sure  I  never 
110         found  my-self  better  then  at  this  present,  savinge  my  greif 

to  finde  soe  strange  usage  at  your  handes,  where  I  haue 

litle  deserued  yt. 
Am.     What  shall  I  saie?     I  am  angrie  to  heare  her  talke,  and 

yet  yt  greues  me  to  see  her  weepe. 
S.         0,  let  her  weepe,  Master.     This  is  the  lettinge  of  her 

braine  bludd ;  tis  the  onely  waie  to  make  her  come  to  her- 
self againe. 
Am.     Well,  weepe  or  weepe  not.     I  must  enquire  further  into 

this  matter,  thats  certeine.     Can  you  saie  that  I  was  here 
MO         yesternight  that  came  but  this  night  into  the  haven,  where 

I  supt,  where  I  slept  all  night,  and  set  not  foot  on  shore 

till  this  morninge? 
Al.       I  saie  you  supt  and  slept  with  me  to-night. 
Am.     Nay,  then,  let  that  be  true  yet  that  I  supt  with  the,  but 

for  the  loue  of  god,  doe  not  saie  I  slept  with  the. 
Al.       Yes,  but  soe  sone  as  it  was  dale  you  returned  backe  to 

your  Army  Againe. 
fS.       Just  this  is  the  first  parte  of  her  dreame. — Madam, 

I'faith,  when  you  awaked  did  you  not  thanke  god  for  your 
180         sweet  dreame? 

Al.       I  hope  though  it  please  my  Lord  to  use  me  as  he  thinkes 

good,  he  will  not  allow  you,  sirra,  to  controule  me.     I  haue 

sene  him  angrie  with  you  in  my  time  for  a  lesse  matter 

then  this. 
Am.     Sir,  an  I  bidd  you  hould  your  peace  againe — Say  you 

that  I  did  goe  awaie  from  you  this  morninge? 
Al.       I,  and  before  your  goeinge  tould  me  your-self  the  whole 

manner  of  your  victorie. 
Am.     Are  you  sure  you  knowe  yt? 
140  Al.       If  it  be  as  you  tould  me,  I  am  sure. 

Am.     As  howe?    Let  us  heare  some  parte  of  yt. 

Al.       First,  how  you  put  them  to  flight,  and  in  the  execucion 

kild    the    kinge    your-self,   and  after    tooke   them  that 

remained  aliue,  to  mercy. 

+  Fol.  17  a. 


132  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

Am.     Did  I  tell  you  this? 

Al.       Sir,  you  did :  how  should  I  knowe  it  els?    Besides  he  was 

by  when  you  tould  me  it. 
Am.     How  sale  you,  Sir ;  did  you  here  me  tell  her  this? 
S.         Where  should  I  heare  you  tell  it? 

Am.     Nay,  aske  her.  iso 

S.         I  will  not  flatly  deny  yt,  bycause  she  hath  said  yt,  but  if 

it  were  soe  tis  more  then  I  can  Remember. 
Al.       Indeed  yt  were  a  mervell  if  he  would  sale  any-thinge  to 

crosse  you. 
Am.     Sirra,  looke  hither ;  looke  me  full  in  the  face. 
S.         I  thinke  this  is  full,  Sir. 
Am.     Sir,  leaue  your  knavery,  you  had  best,  and  tell  me  truely ; 

neuer  speake  to  please  me:    did  I,  in  your  hearinge,  tell 

any  of  these  thinges  to  your  Mistris? 
S.         Sir,  I  praie  you,  are  you  in  as  good  case  as  she,  that  youiflo 

aske  me  this  question? 
Am.     Sirra,  tell  me  directlie,  without  more  adoe,  did  I  or  no? 

(Minanter  offerendo  alapam) 
S.         Noe,  Sir,  no,  not  I.     'I  hard  you,'  quoth  he?    Nor  any 

bodie  els  thats  wise,  I  thinke. 
Am.     Doe  you  heare  what  he  sales? 
Al.       I  heare  him  well. 

Am.     And  will  you  neither  beleiue  him  nor  me? 
f  Al.     Saveinge  my  duetie  to  you.  Sir,  I  will  beleiue  none  before 

my  owne  eyes. 
Am.     Doe  you  sale  still  that  I  came  hither  yester-night?  i70 

Al.       Doe  you  still  deny,  Sir,  that  you  went  from  hence  this 

morninge? 
Am.     I  sale,  and  swere  yt  to,  by  the  kinge  of  heauen ;   this  is 

the  first  hour  of  my  arryvall  here  since  I  went  from  hence 

with  our  Army. 
Al.       And  will  you  denye  to,  what  you  lefte  me  for  a  remem- 
brance at  your  partinge? 
Am.     What  was  that? 
Al.       A  standinge  Cupp  of  gould,  which,  as  you  said,  was  giuen 

you  for  a  present.  i8o 

Am.     I  neyther  gaue  you  one,  nor  ever  said  soe  much  to  you  that 

I  would.     Indeed  it  hath  bene  my  purpose  to  giiie  you  such 

a  one.     But  who  tould  you  thus  much?     lie  laie  my  lief 

tFol.  17  b. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  133 

Dromio  hath  bene  with  you,  for  I  sent  him  out  time  enough 

to  haue  bene  here  by  this  time,  and  I  neare  see  him  since. 
S.         He  warrant  you.  Sir,  tis  none  but  he  that  hath  plaide  the 

knaue  with  you  in  all  this.    [Aside.]    I  think  I  haue  spoken 

for  him. 
Al.       I  knowe  not  when  you  sent  him,  but  I  am  sure  I  see  him 
190         not  yet.    And  if  he  had  bene  here,  you  knowe  best  whither 

he  could  giue  me  the  cupp  or  no. 
Am.     Staie  a  litle,  for  gods  loue.     Thys  makes  me  wonder  yet 

of  all  the  rest,  unles  you,  Sirra,  haue  plaied  the  villaine 

with  me,  and  priuilie  acquainted  her  with  this  before  my 

comeinge,  and  then  come  and  tell  me  I  cannot  tell  what 

deuises  of  your  owne. 
S.         Nay,  an  eare  you  proue  that,  Sir,  you  said  you  would 

hange  me  before,  then  let  me  be  quartered  to. 
Am.     What  shall  I  saie  to  this? 
aoo  Al.       Shall  I  cause  my  woman  to  fetch  yt? 
(Casket.) 
Am.     Let  me  see  yt. 
Al.       You  shall,  Sir.— Thessala! 
T.         Whats  your  will,  Madame? 
Al.       Bringe  me  the  cupp  hither  I  tould  you  my  Lord  gaue  me 

at  his  goeinge  awaie.     Whie  doe  you  not  make  more  hast? 

Bid  Ragazzo  come,  to. 

(Hie  signis  agunt  mutuis  inter  se,  Sosia  &  Thessala.) 
T.         Presentlie,  Madame.  [Exif. 

Am.     Come  hither,  you.   Where  is  your  minde.  Sir?   Whie,  this 

would  make  me  wonder  of  all  the  rest,  if  she  should  chance 
210         to  haue  this  cupp. 

fS.        Lord,  will  you  beleiue  that,  when  you  knowe  tis  here  fast 

under  locke  and  key,  and  under  your  owne  scale? 
Am.     Let  me  see;  is  the  seale  whole? 
S.         Looke,  I  praie  you.  Sir,  that  you  may  be  sure. 
T.         [Ee-e7iter  TliessalaJ]     Here  yt  is,  madame. 
S.         Howe  now? 

Al.       Now,  sir,  see  your-self  whither  this  be  it  or  noe 
Am.     0  heauens,  what  doe  I  see?     Tis  the  verie  same. 
S.         Well,  I  am  sure  of  one  thinge :    either  she  is  a  witch,  or 
830         els  the  cupp  must  be  here  still  in  the  Caskett. 
Am.     Goe  to;  let  us  see;  open  yt  quicklie. 

tFol.  18  a. 


134  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

S.         You  can  beare  me  wytnes,  Sir,  the  seale  is  whole. 
Am.     Very  well,  Sir. 

(Haec  inter  aperiendum  ^ 
S.         This  is  fine  sporte.     I  haue  found  another  Sosia;  my 

maister  he  heares  of  another  Amphitruo;   and  there  be 

another  cupp  here  to,  I'faith  then  we  are  all  dubled. 

Jupiter,  0  Jupiter! 
Am.     Whats  the  matter? 

S.         0,  Jupiter,  Jupiter,  not  a  peice  of  a  cupp  is  there  here. 
Am.     But  you  had  best,  Sir,  finde  me  a  cupp  there.  28o 

Al.       Whie,  you  see  tis  heare. 
Am.     But  how  came  you  by  it,  then? 
Al.       Euen  by  him  that  askes  me  the  question. 
S.         I'  faith,  master,  I  beleiue  you  are  disposed  to  plaie  the 

noble  man  with  me :  you  haue  bene  here  before  me,  and 

taken  yt  out  your-self ,  and  sealed  up  the  casket  againe,  and 

now  you  aske  me  whats  become  of  yt. 
Am.     Villeine,  doest  thou  helpe  her  forward  to  in  her  frensie? 

Doe  you  saie  still  that  I  was  here  yesternight? 
Al.       I  saie  you  were  here.  mo 

S.         And  how  did  you  interteine  him  then? 
Am.     Indeed  that  were  a  question. 
Al,       But  sone  answered:  How  should  a  wief  interteine  her 

husband?    When  you  came  in  first  I  gaue  yow  a  kysse. 
Am.     Beshrowe  me,  I  lyke  not  this  beginninge ;  but  goe  on,  I 

praie  you. 
f  Al.     Then  you  washt. 
Am.     What  then? 
Al.       You  satt  downe  to  supper. 

Am.     And  what  after  supper?  25o 

S.         I,  maister,  aske  hir  forwarde;  you  shall  haue  good  stuff 

anone,  I  warrant  you. 
Am.     Sir,  doe  not  you  interrupt  us. 
Al.       After  supper,  you  found  your-self  some-thinge  weary,  and 

you  went  to  bedd. 
S.         I  thinke  she  will  come  neare  you  anone. 
Am.     Where  laye  you  ? 

Al.       Where  should  I  lye,  but  in  the  same  bedd  with  you? 
Ann.     In  the  same  bedd?    Thou  undoest  me  if  thou  saiest  soe. 
S.         Alas,  Sir,  what  ayle  you?  aeo 

*  Written  "aperiundiun"  in  text.  +  Fol.  18  b. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  135 

Am.     She  hath  wounded  me ;  she  hath  stabbed  me  to  the  hart. 

Al.  Whie  are  you  thus  out  of  order,  Sir?  You  make  me  at  my 
wyttes  end. 

S.  [Aside.]  Thats  a  small  matter;  they  were  at  an  end  a 
good  while  agoe. 

Am.  What  doe  I  reckon  of  my  honour  gotten  abroade,  when 
my  honour  at  home  is  stained,  my  bedd  defiled? 

Al.      Alas,  my  Lo,  whie  shold  you  use  these  wordes  to  me? 

Am.    Awaiefromme!     I,  your  Lord?     Thou  shameles  woman  ^ 
270         doest  thou  not  blush  to  calFme  soe? 

Al.  Sir,  lytle  haue  I  deserued  these  reproaches  at  your 
handes.  The  Godds  knowe  how  wrongfully  you  accuse  me, 
and  I  hope  they  will  doe  me  right. 

Am.  0,  immortall  Godds,  what  may  this  meane?  I  pray  the, 
Sosia,  art  thou  sure  thou  knowest  me? 

S.  I  think  I  had  best  looke  well  upon  you,  to  be  sure. 
I,  you  are  my  maister  Amphitruo  sure,  as  I  take  yt. 

Am.     Did  I  supp  in  the  shipp  yesternight,  or  did  I  not? 

S.         Surely  you  did,  or  one  very  lyke  you.     But  a  man  can 
280         hardly  tell  what  to  sale  of  truth  as  now  the  world  goes. 
I  haue  found  another  Sosia;  belyke  here  is  another  Amphit- 
ruo.    Which  of  you  supt  there  I  cannot  tell ;  I  am  sure 
one  of  you  did. 

Am.     My  bedd  dishonored ! 

Al.  (Lachrymanter)  Then  let  the  unspotted  Diana  plague 
me  for  my  disloyaltie,  if  euer  man  but  Amphitruo  came  in 
my  bedd. 

f  Am.   Would  yt  were  true ! 

Al.       Tis  true,  my  Lord ;  will  you  not  take  myne  othe? 
290  Am.    Tut,  you  are  a  woman;  you  will  sweare  bouldlie  enough. 
Well,  I  am  soe  distraught  with  this  that  I  scarce  knowe  my- 
self. 

S.  I  warrant  you,  Sir,  you  are  Amphitruo  yet,  or  one  of  them 
at  least ;  and  you  loose  not  your-self ,  good  enough. 

Am.  Neuer  weep,  woman ;  thats  no  amendes  for  such  a  fault 
as  this.  What  doe  you  saie  if  I  goe  backe  to  the  ship, 
and  bringe  hither  your  Cousin  Naucrates,  that  was  [t]here 
with  me,  to  disproue  all  you  haue  said  to  your  face?  Doe 
I  wronge  you  then  if  I  put  you  from  me? 
800  Al.       If  I  be  found  false  I  am  Contented. 

tFol.  19  a. 


136  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

Am.     Then  we  are  agreed.     Sirra,  stale  you  here  still ;    I  will 
my-self  goe  backe  and  fetch  Naucrates.     He  trust  no-bodie. 

[Exit, 

S.         Madame,  an  you  be  a  good  ladie,  now  tell  me  one  thinge, 
an  there  be  not  another  Sosia  now  within  besides  me. 

Al.       Sir,  you  will  never  leaue  your  Jybinge. 

S.         Nay,  an  you  be  angrie,  I  am  gone,  and  soe  I  hope  is  my 
fellowe  Sosia  to,  or  els  I  would  not  goe  in  to-daie.     [Exit, 

Al.  (Post  Pausam)  This  is  strange  to  me,  that  haue  lined 
thus  longe  untainted  in  the  opinion  of  the  worlde,  now 
to  be  challenged  by  my  Lord  and  husband.  The  goddes,  310 
I  trust,  that  are  wytnesses  of  myne  Innocency,  will  deliuer 
me  out  of  this  distresse.  It  cannot  be  other-wise.  I 
knowe  my  cousin  Naucrates  is  honorable  and  loues  me. 
He  must  needs  be  wytnes  of  my  side. 


ACTUS  TERTIUS 


SCEN   I 


JUPITER  SOLUS 


I  am  that  Amphitruo  who  ame  Jupiter  when  I  liste,  and 
my  man  is  eyther  Sosia  or  Mercury,  as  I  will.  I  am  now 
stollen  from  Juno,  and  come  downe  hither  againe,  ^seinge 
the  conflicte  betwixt  poore  Alcumena  and  her  husband,  to 
helpe  the  weaker — indeed  to  ease  the  Innocent  of  the 
burthen  of  my  faulte.  This  seconde  comeinge  'of  myne  in 
Amphitruo  his  lykenes  will  breed  yet  a  litle  more  confusion, 
which  I  doe  to  please  my-self.  But  I  will  make  all  good 
in  the  ende  when  the  truth  shalbe  knowne.  And  Alcu- 
10  mena  for  her  Recompense  shall  without  paine  be  deliuered  of 
twoe  braue  boyes,  the  one  begotten  by  her  husband,  the 
other  by  me.  But  here  she  comes, — iust  in  the  humor  of  a 
woman  in  these  cases,  for  her  husband  lefte  her  in  greif, 
but  her  greif  by  this  time  is  turned  into  Choler.  But  I, 
that  haue  pacified  Juno,  the  angrie  Queene  of  heauen,  soe 
often,  doubt  not  but  I  shall  pacyfie  her  againe  well 
enoughe. 


SCEN  II 
ALCUMENA  JUPITER 

I  cannot  haue  patience  to  staie  longer  in  my  house,  when 
I  thinke  how  Iniuriouslie  I  haue  bene  handled  by  my  hus- 
band. Haue  I  lined  with  him  thus  longe  in  the  reputacion 
of  a  true  wief  to  be  now  accused  of  shame  and  dishonor; 
to  be  used  lyk  a  lunatyke  woman,  as  if  I  were  besides  my 
self?  That  that  he  did,  he  denyes,  and  afl&rmes  yt  to  my 
face  that  neuer  was  done;  yet  he  thinkes  I  will  endure  all 

tFol.  19  b. 

137 


138  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

this.  But  lie  is  deceaued.  Indeed  such  was  my  loue  unto 
him  as  no  meane  wronge  could  haue  preueyled  against  yl. 
But  myne  honor  is  more  pretious  to  me  then  my  lief.  It  lo 
would  trie  a  kinde  wief  to  haue  her  bloud  attempted  by 
her  husband.  I  had  rather  he  had  done  soe  then  as  he 
has  done;  therefore  he  hadd  not  need  to  threaten  to  put 
me  awaie,  for  I  meane  not  to  staye  with  him,  unles  he  make 
the  better  satisfacion. 

J.  [Aside.']  That  that  she  meanes  to  put  Amphitruo  to, 
that,  I  see,  must  I  faine  to  doe,  if  I  meane  to  get  any 
fauor  at  her  handes  at  this  tyme.  And  since  my  love  hath 
bene  the  cause  of  her  wronge,  I  must  doe  my-self  iustice, 
and  be  contente  to  beare  the  brunte  of  her  revenge.  20 

Al.  Se  where  he  comes,  the  most  Iniuryous  lord  aliue  to  his 
true  wief. 

J.         How  now,  ladie?    What  tume  you  awaie  from  me? 

A.  It  is  the  nature  of  us  women  not  willinglie  to  looke  upon 
our  Enymies. 

J.         What,  open  warre,  ladye?     Plaine  Enymies? 

f  A.  I  would  you  would  let  me  alone,  sir.  Methinkes  a  man  of 
your  worth  should  not  abase  himself  to  medle  with  soe  vilde 
and  dishonest  a  woman  as  I  am. 

J.         Nay,  then  I  see  you  can  be  angrie,  ladie ;  I  would  not  so 
haue  thought  yt  possible. 

A.  Twere  much  I  should  be  well  pleased  to  be  toucht  in 
that  is  dearer  to  me  then  my  lief. 

J.  Whie,  beleiue  me,  woman,  I  spake  not  as  I  thought ;  I 
did  but  this  to  trie  the. 

A.  If  I  had  ever  giuen  you  cause  to  mistrust  me,  yet  a 
gentler  trial  than  this  might  have  serued. 

J.  But  I  knowe  the  soe  kinde  as  noe  small  matter  would 
haue  moued  thy  patience :  now  I  see  thou  takest  it  so  euill, 
trust  me,  ladie,  I  am  sorry  I  began.   Wilt_thou  f orgiue  me?  40 

A.  I  knowe  you  set  much  by  my  forgiuenes.  I  expected  you 
should  bringe  my  cosen  Naucrates  with  you,  but  he  is  no 
such  man  as  so  easilie  to  be  brought  to  wronge  an  Innocent. 

J.  Whie,  I  praie  the,  good  Alcumena,  beleiue  me,  I  was 
but  in  iest  all  this  while.     Sosia  can  beare  me  wytnes. 

A.  I  know  not  how  you  were.  Sir.  I  am  sure  yt  proued  emest 
to  me,  for  yt  has  gone  as  neare  me  as  my  harte. 

tFoL20a. 


(  UNIVERSITY  j 
THE  BIOTBi£iafJ^iSfet!!ULES  139 

J.  Sweet  Alcumena,  if  euer  thou  didst  loue  me,  forgiue  me 
but  this  once. 
80  A,  Sir,  if  it  please  you  to  giue  me  that  which  is  myne,  here- 
after, if  I  be  false,  you  shalbe  sure  I  shall  not  be  false  to 
you.  Or  if  not,  if  you  will  but  allowe  me  one  to  attend  me 
home  to  my  fathers  house — or  if  you  will  not,  yet  I  hope  to 
goe  accompanied  with  my  honor  in  spight  of  them  that 
would  take  yt  from  me. 

J.         Nay,  Alcumena,  stale  a  litle ;  let  us  haue  a  worde  yet  ere 

we  part,  if  there  be  no  other  remedie.     And  tell  me  this, 

I'  faith,  in  equity,  if  the  first  fault  euer  I  committed  against 

the  in  my  lief  can  deserue  soe  hard  iustice  as  straight  to  be 

60         forsaken? 

A.  I  knowe  I  cannot  please  you  better;  tis  that  you  haue 
sought.     Now  you  shall  haue  your  desire. 

J.  Nay,  then,  let  Jupiter  hate  me  for  euer,  if  yt  be  not  soe 
farre  from  my  desire  that  it  would  greiue  me  to  the  harte. 

f  A.  Let  Jupiter  be  your  freind,  I  beseech  him,  whatsoeuer 
become  of  me. 

J.         Well,  Ladye,  this  is  once;  you  sale  you  will  be  gone; 
theres  no  stayinge  of  you.      Then  will  I  to  sea  out  of 
hand.     Farewell,  Thebes.     I  hope  to^  see  heauen  ere  I  see 
70         the  againe,  after  I  am  gone  once. 

A.  The  goddes  forbidd  that  for  my  sake  you  should  wronge 
your  Countrie  soe  much. 

J.  Noe,  noe,  I  see  tis  your  desire  it  should  be  soe.  I  could 
but  once  iest  in  my  lief,  and  to  be  taken  then  at  the  hard- 
est !  Well,  lady,  since  I  see  your  hart  is  soe  hardened  against 
me  that  you  purpose  to  leaue  me,  I  will  begin  first.  And 
for  a  proof  I  mistrusted  you  not,  I  leaue  you  what  I  haue. 
lie  to  my  shipp  and  see  her  furnisht,  and  then  I  am  gone. 

A.        [Aside.]    Alas,  I  see  he  will  be  gone  indeed  if  I  stale 
80         him  not. — My  Lord,  good  my  Lord,  beare  with  a  womans 
weaknes.     I  knowe  you  were  but  in  iest  with  me ;  I  make 
no  doubt  of  yt. 

J.         Nay,  I  am  indifferent  now,  thinke  what  yon  will. 

A.        Indeed,  my  Lord,  I  will  neuer  be  angrie  with  yow  againe. 

J.         Doest  thou  forgiue  me  then? 

A.        Doe  you  make  a  question  of  yt? 

J.         How  shall  I  knowe  thou  doest? 


140  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

A.        Harke,  and  I  will  tell  yow.     [  WJiispers  to  Mm.'\ 

J.         May  I  beleiue  the? 

A.        I  hope  you  will,  Sir.  9o 

J.  Not  unles  you  tell  me  againe.  [Alcumena  whispers 
again.]  Now  I  beleiue  the,  and  am  gladd,  Ladye,  we  are 
become  soe  good  freindes  againe.  I  sweare  yt  shalbe  the 
last  tyme  of  our  fallinge  out. — What,  Sosia! — I  will  send 
him  to  Blepharo  my  shipmaister  to  bidd  hym  come  to 
dynner  to  me.  [Aside.]  But  I  meane  to  haue  some 
sport  with  him  and  Amphitruo  to,   yet  ere  I  dyne. 

A.        [Aside.]   I  maruell  whats  that  he  talkes  alone  to  him-self . 

J.         What,  Sosia,  I  saie! 


tScEN   III 

SOSIA  JUPITER  ALCUMENA 

S.         Here,  Sir,  here;   you  tooke  me  even  in  my  caste.  Sir. 

A  litle  more  I  hadd  slaked  my  thirst  pretilie  well.  * 
J.      .  Sirra,  doe  you  heare? 

(Videt  nempe  prendentes  invicem  manus) 
S.        I,  sir,  I.     0  lord,  are  you  twoe  freindes  againe?     Truely 

I  am  gladd  to  see  yt.    I  thinke  you  were  but  in  iest  all  that 

while,  for  if  you  hadd  bene  in  ernest  you  could  not,  I  thinke, 

haue  bene  freindes  by  this  tyme. 
J.        Did  not  I  saie  that  Sosia  could  beare  me  wytnes  I  did  but 

iest  with  the? 
A.        Sir,  I  beleiue  it ;   what  needes  more  of  yt?   But,  Sirra,  lo- 

how  chance  you  were  soe  sawcye?     Could  not  your  maister 

iest  but  you  must  iest  to? 
S.         0  Lord,  madame,  the  onelie  iestinge  in  the  world  is  to 

iest  with  good  companie;   my  maister  should  haue  had 

sporte  alone  els. 
A.        And  was  not  your  maister,  thinke  you,  oddes  enough  for 

me,  but  you  must  be  twoe  to  one? 
S.         Why,  Madame,  and  all  lytle  enoughe,  for  one  woman  is 

hable  to  take  downe  a  great  many  men.     I  hope  you  will  ^ 

pardon  me,  Madame,  for  my  bouldnes.  2a 

t  Fol.  21  a. 

»  Altered  in  MS.  from:  "I  think  I  haue  slaked  my  thirst  pretUie  well  since  I 
went  in." 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  141 

A.  Well,  Sosia,  well,  now  my  lord  and  I  are  freindes  take 
heed  I  helpe  you  not  to  a  beatinge  one  of  these  daies,  an 
you  leaue  not  your  knauery. 

J.  Sirra,  soe  yt  is.  I  haue  a  matter  of  Religion  to  performe^ 
a  certeine  vowe  I  made  to  Jupiter  before  my  vyctorie. 

S.         Soe,  sir. 

J.         I  would  haue  you  goe   fetch  hither  from  the  shipp 
Blepharo,  my  ship-maister,  that,  after  the  solempnitie  done, 
he  and  I  may  dyne  together. 
30  S.         He  be  there  and  here  againe  with  a  tryce,  sir. 

J.         See  you  bee.     [Exit  SosiaJ] 

A.  In  the  meanetime,  if  you  please,  I  will  goe  in  and  com- 
maund  the  vessells  you  are  to  use  to  be  in  a  readynes. 
— Ragazzo,  where  are  you? 

J.  I  praie  the,  goe,  and  thou  shalt  make  me  beholding  to 
the.  [Exit  Alcumena.]  Thus  liaue  I  deceaued  both  the 
mistres  &  the  man  together.  But  a  good  end  shall  make  »• 
mendes  for  all.  Now,  as  I  am  sacrifysinge,  will  Amphit- 
ruo  returne  home  from  seekinge  of  Naucrates,  whome  he 
40  cannot  finde.  But  I  will  haue  Mercury  keepe  him  out 
from  comeinge  ^in  here,  by  his  leaue,  yet,  whome  he  will 
take  for  his  man  Sosia,  and  to  make  up  the  matter  there 
will  be  Dromio,  his  other  man,  to  helpe  to  keepe  out  his 
owne  maister  to.  And  Dromio  is  comeinge  here :  as  sone  aa 
he  sees  me  he  will  make  noe  question  but  I  am  his  maister, 
and  soe  I  am  like  to  be  troubled  with  him.  For  he 
comes  full  in  a  conceyt  to  haue  at  my  handes  a  charge  of 
certeine  prisonners  comytted  to  him,  as  my  Mercury  made 
him  beleiue,  when  he  gott  his  ringe  from  him.  And 
prisoners  here  are  none  this*  once ;  therefore  I  must  salue 
up  the  matter  as  well  as  I  can  for  the  present,  that  we  may 
not  want  his  companie  anone  in  helpinge  to  keepe  his  right 
maister  out  of  dores.     And  here  he  is. 


ScEN  nil 

DROMIO  JUPITEE 

D.         [Solus.]     And   they   should  be  unruly  now,  as  these 
younge  nobles  are  wagges,  I  would  indeed  speake  some- 

t  Fol.  21  b.  »  Written  "  y""'  in  MS. 


50 


142  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

thinge  bigge  to  them,  as,  *My  honorable  subiectes,  I  must 
not  haue  you  doe  soe. '  But  I  doe  not  depute  yt  best  to 
smyte  them  at  any  hand.^  Soe  if  one  of  them  should 
chance  to  come  to  the  crowne  afterward,  and  I  come  in  his 
fingers,  he  might  make  me  hopp  without  my  crowne  and 
my  head  to.  No,  He  none  of  that,  but  an  they  be  my 
faithfull  prisoners  He  be  their  most  duetif uU  gouemour. 
I 'faith  what  a  credytt  it  wilbe  as  I  walke  in  the  street  lo 
now,  to  here  the  voice  of  the  comon  people:  *  There 
goes  Monsier  le  gouemour,'  saith  one.  'There  goes  his 
wourship,'  saith  another.  For  indeed  the  base  name  of  a 
Jailor  is  fytt  for  such  as  keepe  theiues,  not  for  him  that 
hath  true  nobilitie  in  his  keepinge.  But  yonder  I  haue 
spied  my  master,  Amphitruo,  whome  I  haue  bene  seek- 
inge  of  soe  longe.  A  man  would  thinke,  that  seeth  him, 
he  is  not  soe  litle  but  that  he  might  haue  bene  found  by 
this  time.  Truely  I  cannot  tell  with  what  face  to  looke 
upon  him,  I  am  soe  bashful!,  now  I  am  towardes  this  same  20 
preferment.  And  indeed  shamelesnes  in  an  officer  is  a 
notorious  thinge.  Well,  I  will  sett  before  the  best  face  I 
haue. — Lord,  Sir,  I  haue  bene  to  seeke  you,  I  think  all  the 
world  ouer.  [Aside.]  I  Moe  not  thinke  when  I  am  in 
place  once  it  wilbe  fytt  for  me  to  stande  with  my  hatt  of, 
any  longer. 

J.         And  where  hast  thou  bene  seekinge  of  me? 

D.  Marry,  there  and  here,  and  here  and  there,  &  there  and 
here  againe ;  in  twoe  wordes,  where  not,  sir? 

J.        I  can  tell  the  in  fine:   not  there  where  I  was,  for  thenao 
thou  hadest  found  me. 

D.  "They  be  iust  fine  indeed,  (numerat  in  digitos  dum  ille 
loquitur).    I  praie  you  what  was  yt  you  said.  Sir? 

J.  Must  I  tell  you  twise?  I  sale  you  sought  me  not  where 
I  was,  for  then  you  had  found  me. 

D.  Thats  true  indeed.  Sir.  Soe  a  man  may  saie,  an  he  had 
knowne  that,  he  had  neare  sought  for  you.  But  I  was 
vildlie  affraid  if  I  had  not  at  last  founde  you  by  lande  I 
should  haue  bene  put  to  haue  sought  you  by  water. 

J.         And  whie  wert  thou  affraide  of  that?  40 

»  Altered  from:  "  with  my  hand."  t  Fol.  22  a. 

»  "  Let  me  see:  |  not  |  there  |  where  1 1 1  was  |  for  |  then  |  thou  |  hadest  |  found  | 
me.  I  "   CJrossed  out  in  MS.  at  beginning  of  Dromio's  speech. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  143 

D.        You  would  not  aske  me  the  question  and  you  knew  as 
much  as  I  knowe.     Whie,  I  tell  you,  Sir,  he  that  hath  bene 
condempned,  brought  to  the  place  of  persecution,  had  the 
hangman  by  the  hande,  the  halter  about  his  neck,  made 
his  profession,  songe  'god  blesse  us,*  the  eleuen  and  fyftie 
psalme,  said  'Good  people  praie  for  me,'  nay,  had  one 
legge  alreadie  of  of  the  ladder,  and  was  then  saued,  neuer 
scapet  hanginge  nearer  then  I  scapet  drowninge. 
(Omnia  haec  singillatim  agi  oportet) 
J.         I  am  gladd  ont,  Dromio. 
50  D.        What,  that  I  was  almost  drowned.  Sir? 
J.         Noe,  I  mean  that  thou  escapest,  man. 
D.        Thats  a-nother  matter,  indeed. 
J.         And  by  what  tyme  came  you  to  your  mistres,  then? 
D.        Tyme  enough  for  any-thinge  I  saide  to  her. 
J.         Whie,  spake  you  not  wyth  her? 
D.        No,  nor  she  with  me  neyther. 
J.         Wheres  my  ringe  then? 

D.        As  though  you  knewe  not!     1st  you  are  in  iest.  Sir? 
J.         What  doe  you  meane  by  that? 
«o  fD.      I  meane  you  are  not  in  emest,  sir. 
J.         I  hope,  sir,  you  haue  not  cozened  me  of  my  ringe? 
D.        *Cozen  you,'  quoth  he :  marry,  would  I  hadd  the  grace  to 

Cozen  yow. 
J.         Thanke  you,  sir.     This  it  is  to  commytt  any-thinge  to  a 

fooles  charge. 
D.        [Aside.]    I  knowe  he  meanes  that  by  the  prisoners. — Nay, 
maister,  never  sale  soe.     Doe  but  try  me  once ;   and  you 
finde  me  wantinge  eyther  in  vice  or  negligence,  neare  trust 
me  with  charge  againe. 
73  J.         Try  the  once?     And  nere  trust  the  with  charge  againe? 
What  charge  doest  thou  meane,  man? 
D.        You  need  not  make  it  soe  strange,  an  yt  please  you.     If 
I  looke  not  to  them  as  I  should  doe,  then  put  me  out  of 
office,  and  put  Sosia  in  my  rome. 
J.         I  praie  the,  what  doest  thou  meane  by  this?     I  perceaue 

the  not. 
D.        Will  you  haue  me  speake  louder,  sir? 
J.         Speake  lowder,  you  aske?     Speak  me  plainer.     Whome 
wouldest  thou  looke  to?    Whie  doest  thou  not  answere  me? 

t  Fol.  32  b. 


144  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

D.        (Lachrymanter)    Nay,  tig  no  matter,  Sir;  though  you  doeeo 
not,  I  am  not  greatlie  disoff ended. 

J.         But  wilt  thou  tell  me  what  thou  meanest? 

D.  Whie,  those  same  prisoners  you  sent  me  worde  by  Sosia 
I  should  keepe.  By  that  token  you  badd  him  taJce  the 
ringe  from  me,  you  gaue  me  to  deliuer  my  ladye. 

J.         Thou  wilt  neuer  be  but  a  foole. 

D.        Naye,  lyke  enough  soe,  sir. 

J.  Whie,  I  haue  neyther  prisoners,  nor  ever  badd  Sosia  take 
any  ringe  of  the. 

D.        Then,  belyke,  I  am  cozoned  for  any-thinge  I  see;  and  yetw 
let  me  see;  how  should  he  come  to  knowe  I  had  the  ringe, 
if  you  tould  him  not? 

J.  How?  Whie  thou  art  such  an  asse  as  if  I  hadd  bene  as 
he  I  would  haue  scene  it  in  thy  face. 

D.  A  ringe  in  my  face?  A  ringe  in  a  hogges  face!  And 
my  face  be  well  lokt  into  t'has  as  fewe  ringes  as  other 
folkes  faces. 

J.  Whie,  neare  make  soe  much  of  that,  man.  He  tell  the 
by  thie  face.  He  laie  my  lief,  anie-thinge  thou^  hast  done, 
and  soe  a  man  may  doe  by  any  fooles  face  in  the  world.*      loo 

D.  Tell  me  anythinge  I  haue  done  by  my  face?  Then  will 
I  neare  owne  yt  againe,  an  it  were  fine  times  better  then 
tis. 

J.  Whie,  come  hither.  Looke  upon  me  a  litle,  that  thou 
maist  beleiue  me  another  time.  Let  me  see:  when  our 
Armyes  were  hard  a-fightinge  I  knowe  what  thou  didest  by 
thy  face. 

D.  Nay,  nere  stand  lokinge  soe,  for  and  my  face  saye  other- 
wise then  well  by  me  I  defye  my  face,  I. 

J.         When  we  were  hard  in  fightinge  then  thou, — lett  me  see.  no 

D.  [Aside."]  0  face,  face,  and  thou  beest  a  good  face,  be 
true  to  thy  maister  now,  face. 

J.         Then  thou  for  a  hundreth  pound  wert  runninge  away. 

D.  I  am  the  wourse  for  my  face  while  I  line.  Thou  Judas 
misbegotten  face,  that  art  a  traitor  to  thy  owne  maister ! 
Thou  monster  of  faces !  I  will  hier  some  wild  catt,  some 
hagg  of  hell,  or  some  fernall  furye  to  capperclawe  the,  or 
els  I  will  remoue  the  hither,  and  with  the  wurst  peice  hero 
make  a  truer,  a  more  disloyall,  and  honest  face  then  euer 

»  Written  "  y«  "  in  MS.  +  Fol.  23  a. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  14$ 

lao         thon  werte.     Yet  had  thou  but  betraied  me  to  my  maister, 

and  not  lyke  a  swynes  face  shewed  the  ringe  to  Sosia,  yt 

would  neuer  have  greiued  me  soe  much.    Well,  I  will  about 

the  translatinge  of  the,  presentlie  for  yt. 
J.         What,  quite  out  of  loue  with  thie  face  by  this  time? 

Tis  pitty,  tis  soe  good  a  one.     But  I  will  haue  you  freindes 

againe  for  all  that. 
D.        Naie,  then. 
J.         Sweare  not, 'man. 
D.        Nay,  an  I  bee? 
130  J.         Whie,  I  haue  but  iested  with  the,  all  this  while. 

D.        I,  much  iestinge!     And  yet  it  male  be  so  to,  for  I  knowe 

my  face  could  neare  tell  you  that  I  ranne  awaie. 
J.         It  needed  not,  man,  for  I  see  yt  my-self ,  as  I  loket  about 

me  to  breath  me,  when  we  were  in  fight. 
D.        An  I  praie  you.  Sir,  an  I  male  be  soe  bould,  is  your  eye- 
sight soe  transparent  that  you  might  not  be  ouerseene  in 

such  a  duste  as  was  then? 
J.       It  may  be  soe  indeed,  Dromio. 
D.        Tis  a  plaine  case;  you  were  greatlie  mistaken. 

140  J.         Indeed,  Amphitruo  dares  not  sweare  he  see  the 

D.        I  may  tell  you  Amphitruo  does  the  wiser. 

f  J.       And  for  the  ringe,  yt  was  not  without  my  consent  that 

Sosia  tooke  yt  of  the.     But  the  prisoners  are  yet  to  come. 

When  they  come,  challenge  me  of  my  worde,  and  if  I  faile 

the,  then  blame  me. 
D.      I'faith,  I   knewe  you  were  in  iest  all  this  while.       A 

litle  more  I  had  giuen  my  face  the  remoue,  I  warrant  it. 

But  doe   you  heare,  maister,  when  will  these  prisoners 

come,  think  you? 
150  J.         Neare  thinke  yt  longe.     As  sone  as  they  are  come  theile 

be  heare. 
D.        Thats  well.     And  when  a  man  has  them  now,  what  were 

yt  best  for  a  man  to  be  called,  think  you? 
J.         Whie,  what  thou  wilte. 
D.        As  it  were,  Monsier  Le  Gouerneur,  or  soe,  sir,  for  I 

would  not  be  called  a  Jailor,  for  all  the  world :   that  were 

Cozen  german  to   a  hangman  once  remoued  (interposita 

pausa)  from  the  gallowes. 
J.         Thou  shalt — thou  shalt  be  called  monsier  le  gouerneur, 

tFoL  28  b. 


146  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

and  he  that  calls  the  not  soe,  I  will  turne  him  out  of  my  iw 

house. 
D.        What,  Sosia  and  all,  maister? 
J.         I,  Sosia,  or  ten  Sosiaes. 
D.        Then  will  I  see  if  Sosia  or  ten  Sosiaes  dare  sale  to  me, 

*Dromio,  blacke  is  thine  eye.' 


SCEN  V 
MERCURIUS  SOLUS 

ITow  ys  it  my  fathers  will  that  I  shall  keepe  Amphitruo 
from  comeinge  in  here,  whoe  will  presentlie  returne  from 
seekinge  of  Naucrates,  and  to  this  end  will  I  put  a  gar- 
lande  on  my  head,  and  make  my-self  lyke  one  of  Bacchus 
knightes,  as  if  I  were  drunke,  the  better  to  couer  the 
matter.  Then  will  I  and  Dromio  up  to  the  house  toppe 
togeather.  I  doubt  not  but  we  shall  keepe  him  out  well 
enough  as  longe  as  the  tiles^  last.  As  for  Dromio,  yt  will 
be  the  least  parte  of  his  thought  that  he  keepes  out  his 
maister,  for  he  verilie  takes  my  Father  for  him,  whome  he  lo 
shall  leaue  within.  And  all  that  I  doe  shall  after  light 
upon  Sosia  his  necke.  What  care  I  for  that?  Tis  my 
fathers  will  it  should  be  soe,  and  the  truth  wilbe  discou- 
ered  eare  longe.  Well,  I  will  about  it  straight.  See, 
Amphitruo  is  heare  at  hand,  litle  loking  for  such  Inter- 
teignement  at  his  owne  house. 

iWritten  "toles"  in  Ms! 


f  ACTUS  QUARTUS 

SCEK  I 
AMPHITRUO  MERCURY  DROMIO 

A.  [Solus.]  I  cannot  finde  Naucrates  by  no  meanes.  He 
was  not  in  the  shipp  nor  in  his  owne  house,  nor  could  any 
man  tell  me  what  was  become  of  him.  Now  will  I  home 
therefore,  and  never  leaue  untill  I  bringe  my  wief  her-self 
to  confesee  who  hath  couckolded  me,  for  if  I  let  yt  passe 
thus,  let  me  suffer  death.  But  softe!  The  dores,  me- 
thinkes,  are  shutt.  How  now?  This  is  even  much  after 
the  reste. — Who  is  within  here?  Who  comes  to  open  me 
the  dore? 
10  M.  (Mercurius  interloquendum  mode  oscitet,  mode  ructet. )  Whoe 
is  at  the  dore? 

D.        Whoe  is  that  soe  lustie  at  our  dore? 

A.         Tys  I. 

D.  Whoe?  My  maister?  This  is  braue !  Haue  I  one  maister 
wythin  and  another  wythout?  I  am  sure  I  lefte  one  within 
doeinge  of  his  Collacion  to  the  Goddes:  by  the  masse. 
He  goe  see  whither  he  be  within  still  or  noe. 

A.        [Aside.]     Thats  Dromio;  he  is  gone  downe  to  let  me  in. 

But  what  did  he  there,  trowe  wee?     And  is  not  Sosia  yonder 

20         still,  with  a  garland  about  his  heade?      I  maruell  what 

time  of  daie  tis  with  him. — Sirra,  whatt  make  you  there? 

Whie  goe  not  you  downe  to  open  the  dore? 

M.        Whiw,  whiw,  whiw! 

A.         Whie  doe  not  you  answere  me,  Sirr? 

M.        Whome,  Sir? 

A.         Mee. 

M.        Whie,  whatt  are  you? 

A.         *What  am  I,'  sir?    Do  you  aske  the  question? 

M.        I,  marry,  doe  I,  sir.     A  plague  on  you!     What  doe  yon 
30         rappinge  soe  hard  at  our  dore? 

tFol.  24  a. 

147 


148  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

A.         How  ys  that? 

M.        Tis  even  soe,  as  if  your  head  were  broken  for'te  you 

hadd  but  your  due. 
A.        Sosia! 

M.        Indeed,  thats  my  name :  how,  then? 
A.        Vylleine,  doest  thou  aske  me,  'how  then?' 
M.        I,  marry,  doe  I,  sir.      Never  stand    faceinge  of    me. 

What  wouldest  thou,  fellowe?    What  art  thou? 
A.        Thou  base  cowardlie  villeine,  doest  thou  aske  what  I  am, 

whome,  for  this  daies  worke,  will  I  haue  whipte  till  thou  49 

hast  not    a  iote  of  ^skynne  lefte  upon  any  parte  of  thy 

bodie.     I  see  thou  arte  drunke  now,  but  thou  shalt  paie  for 

yt  when  thou  arte  sober. 
M.        Freinde,  you  should  haue  bene  very  prodigall  in  your 

youth. 
A.        And  whie,  Sir? 
M.        That  now  you  are  ould  come   a-begginge  to  me  for  a 

mischeif. 
A.        Dearly  shalt  thou  abide,  villeine,  this  wronge,  if  eare  I 

get  the  into  my  handes.  so 

M.        Doe  you  heare,  sir?     Doe  I  not  coole  you  to  much  to 

keepe  you  without  dores  all  this  while? 
A.        I  doubt  not  but  eare  longe  I  shall  heat  you  for  it. 
D.        Sirra,  fellowe  Sosia,  my  lord  is  within. 
M.      Thou  needes  not  haue  tould  me  that;  I  knewe  soe  much 

before.     But  what  hast  thou  brought  there? 
D.        'What  haue  I  brought,'  quoth  he,  as  though  a  man  could 

trauell  wythout  his  Liquor  into  these  high  Countries. 
M.        I'faith,  god  haue  marcy,  thou  art  ould  suersby. 
D.        I,  let  me  alone  for  a  fore-caste.      But,  Sirra,  what  aeo 

slave  is  yon!      Doest  thou  not  see  he  hath  stollne  my 

maisters  face  up  and  downe,  and  his  apparell,  and  how 

lyke  a  villeine  he  lookes? 
M.      Whie,  thou  saiest  he  lookes  lyke  thy  maister. 
D.        Thats  true,  but  soe  he  does  not  looke  lyke  a  villeine,  but 

as  he  is  theif,  man,  soe  he  lookes  lyke  a  villeine.     You 

haue  wytt,  fellowe  Sosia,  an  twere  a  maister  of  an  hospitall. 
M.        How  is  that,  I  praie  the? 
D.        You  will  take  a  man  up  for  hal tinge  straight. 
M.        Well  stumbled,  I'faith,  upon  a  good  iest.  to 

tFol.24b. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  149 

D.        Sirra,  how  the  slaue  leanes  this  waie!     An  you  mark 

him,  he  hath  the  very  forfeyture  of  a  theif. 
M.        Well,  wilt  thou  helpe  me  to  keepe  him  out? 
D.        To  keepe  him  out?    And  more  then  that  to.     Doe  but 

thou  goe  downe  and  take  him  and  binde  him,  and  if  I 

helpe  the  not  to  beate  him  to,  neuer  trust  me  againe. 
A.        [Aside.]     Yonder  is  Dromio  againe;   tis  he.     He  laye 

my  lief  now  it  is  some  plotte  of  my  wiefes,  and  he  is  one 

of  the  confederacy  to.     I  will  trye  him. — Sirra!     Dromio! 
80  fD.      In  good  time,  sir;  what  then? 
A.        [Aside.]     Did  I  not  tell  you  soe?    Hark  how  sawcilie 

the   varlet  answeres  me. — Sirra,  did  not  you  heare  me 

knock? 
D.        Yes,  marry,  did  I,  and  hope  to  see  you  knockt  to,  by 

and  by,  an  you  get  you  not  awaie  the  soner. 
A.        Whie,  villeine,  I  sale,  whie  doest  thou  not  open  the  dore? 
D.        Open  the  dore,  sir?    Alas,  thats  but  hard  by,  bycause 

you  seeme,  as  yt  were,  to  be  one  of  my  acquaintance,  good 

f  ellowe.     I  giue  the  leaue  to  open  it  thie-self  if  thou  canst, 
90         and  take  yt  for  a  fauour. — Haue  I  not  flouted  him,  think- 

est  thou? 
.    M.        Yes,  faith,  hast  thou :  you  are  such  another — ^you  need 

much  to  talke  of  other  mens  good  wyttes. 
D.        Awaie,  awaie,  f  ellowe  Sosia.     I 'faith  you  will  mak  me 

blush,  by  and  by. 
A.       Was  euer  man  thus  wretched  but  I,  to  line  to  be  flouted 

by  those  he  hath  brought  up? 
D.        Goe  your  waies;   thats  a  lye.     I  will  be  sworne  I  was 

brought  upp  by  the  ladder  here;  I  had  neare  bene  here 
100         to-daie  els. — Sirra,  f ellowe  Sosia,  He  tell  the  what  comes 

into  my  head  now. 
M.        I  praie  the,  doe.     I  knowe  tis  some  speciall  matter. 
D.        Were  not  this  an  Incony  place  to  take  a  pipe  of  Tobacco 

in?     0,  an  our  house  had  a  chymney,  a  man  might  take 

yt  out  of  the  chymney  most  plentifully ! 
M.        But,  sirra,  for  want  of  Tobacco,  what  if  we  take  a  litle 

Liquor  in  the  meane-time? 
D.        A  good  motion,  a  very  good  motion,  I 'faith.     But  what 

wilt  thou  giue  me  if  I  floute  yonder  slaue  now  in  high 
110         dutch? 

tFol.  25  a.  ""^ 


150  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

M.  What  will  I  giue  the?  Thou  shalt  haue  a  kysse  of 
Thessala;  how  saiest  thou? 

D.  Shall  I  i'  faith?  0,  braue!  But  where  shall  I  kisse  her, 
sirra? 

M.  What  a  question  is  that!  Where  thou  wilt;  chuse  thy 
place. 

[D.]  Remember  what  you  saie:  I  shall  chuse  my  place. 
Then  haue  at  him. — Heare  you,  mein  herr^  ich  hringe  euch 
unudt  heng  euch  selves. — I  thinke  I  haue  dutcht  him. 

M.        Very  good  fustian,  I'faith.  12a 

D.        Here,  fellowe  Sosia. 

M.        Me  danck  you,  good  fellowe  Dromio;    call  you  ^thia 
highe  dutch,  to  drynke  all  the  beare  and  then  giue  a  man 
the  emptye  pott?    Well,  He  finde  an  use  for  yt  by  and  by. 
(proijcit  enim  mox  in  Amphitruonem.) 

A.  {Aside.l  Can  a  man  indure  all  this?  But  I  will  let  this 
foole  alone  and  trye  Sosia  yet  a  litle  further. — Sirra  Sosia, 
you  will  open  the  dore. 

M.        Can  you  tell  when.  Sir? 

D.  Ha,  ha,  he!  a  very  good  iest,  by  the  Lord,  a  very  good 
ieste,  and  without  infectacion.  iso- 

A.        Doest  thou   thinke  whippinge    shall  serue  thy  turne?     • 
Nay,  if  I  kill  the  not 

D.  Kill  him',  quoth  he!  Thou  wilt  be  hanged  as  sone  as 
thou  canst  reach  him. 

M.  Sirra,  you  that  threaten  to  kill  men,  starvelinge  Carcase, 
shadowe  of  a  man,  be  gone  quickly,  I  giue  you  waminge, 
and  touch  not  our  dore  againe,  you  had  best,  not  soe  much 
as  with  your  litle  finger.  An  you  doe  I  will  hitt  you  such  a 
phillipp  on  the  coxcombe  with  one  of  these  tyles  that  I 
will  make  the  spytt  thy  tounge  out.  14a 

D.  [Aside.']  He  hath  spoken  most  pithilie;  what  shall 
I  saie  after  this?  Even  as  my  muse  will  giue  me  leaue. — 
And  if  thou  doest  not  spitt  yt  out  the  soner,  marke  me 
well,  I  will  take  the  such  a  blowe  on  thy  chappes  if 
Apelles  guide 

M.        Apollo,  man,  thou  wouldest  saie,  I  knowe. 

D.        I,  soe  I  saie,  if  Pollio  guide  my  right 

M.        Elbowe. 

D.        I,  if  Pollio  guide  my  right  Elbowe,  that  I  will,  that  I 
tFol.  35  b.  ~~~~~ 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  151 

150         will — I'faith  you  haue  put  me  out,  that  you  haue,  fellowe 
Sosia. 

M.        I  warrant  the;  goe  on,  man. 

D.     — that  I  will  send  thie  tounge  for  a  lyinge  after  meat,  lyke  a 
calues  tounge  downe  thy  throte,  and  see  into  thy  foundacion 
and  soe  forth.     (Hie  saepius  in  morem  hoesitantis  despuat) 
'  M.        Passing  well.    [Aside.]     This  is  within  all  comparison. 

A.        [Aside.']     What   doe  I  muse  about?     '^Harke  he  will 

make  another  speach.''^  {'*  "  betwixt  these  markes  is  sayed 

by  Dromio.)    A  slaue,  drunkerd,  wilt  thou  forbidd  me  to 

160         knocke  at  my  owne  dores?    Doe  I  not  knowe  the  to  be  a 

coward?    He  goe  pluck  them  downe  to  the  very  ground. 

D.        Surely  the  man  has  spoken  as  his  wytt  serues  him.^ 

M.       You  will  not,  I  am  sure. 

A.       See  whither  I  will  or  no. 

(In  hoc  intennedio  tempore  lateres  eniunt,  quorum  aliqui  sint 
veri^  qui  terram  feriant  aliqui  falsi,  qui  ilium) 

M.       Then  haue  at  you,  I'  faith. 
D.        Come  on,  I'faith ;  lets  to  him. 
M.       But,  Sirra,  how  an  he  gett  up  to  us? 
D.        I  warrant  the;  at  him,  at  him! 

A.        0,  he  hath  wounded  me!    What,  villaine,  thy  maister? 
170  M.       Doest    thou    finde   fait   with  drunkerds,  and  call   me 

Master?     He  your  man?    I'faith,  as  much  as  I  am,  and 

all  one. 
A.       Whie,  am  not  I  thy  maister? 
D.        Sirra,  I  longe  to  be  at  it  againe;   me^-thinkes  tis  fine 

sporte. 
M.       Staie  a  litle,  man;  faire  warrs  are  best.     We  must  hauo 

some  parlie. 
D.        I  am  perswaded  with  much  adoe. 

M.       You  my  maister.  Sir?    I  hope  I  haue  no  maister  but 
180         Amphitruo. 

A.       Haue  I  then  lost  my  shape?    Tell  me  for  godes  sake ; 

doe  I  not  looke  lyke  Amphitruo? 
D.        Yes,  by  my  troth,  doeth  he,  and  I  should  speake  my 

conscience :   onely  I  thinke  Amphitruo  his  head  is  wholer 

then  his. 
M.        Harke,  Dromio,  you  are  called  within. 
D.        I  come,  I  come!    Ys  it  you,  Mistris  Thessala?    Take 

+  Fol.  26  a.  1  Written  "  reri "  in  MS.  a  Written  "my"  in  MS. 


152  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

heed,    you  had  best,  I  doe  not  fall  upon  you. — Fellowe 

Sosia,  you  will  looke  to  him.     [Exit  Dromio.'] 
M.        I  warrant  the;  lett  me  alone.    [To  Amphitruo.']  Didnotiflo 

I  sale  thou  wert  tipled  thy-self ,  that  askes  another  man 

whoe  thou  arte?    Well,  begone,  I  would  wish  the,  without 

more  adoe,  and  trouble  not  our  house  while  Amphitruo, 

beinge  now  returned  from  the  campe,  is  solasinge  himself 

with  his  Lady. 
A.        What  Ladye?  ^ 

M.        With  Alcumena. 
\.        Whoe? 
M.        Did  I  not  tell  the?     Amphitruo,  my  lord  and  maister. 

Trouble  me  no  more.  **> 

A.        Tell  me  but  this :  with  whome  doeth  he  lye? 
M.        Yet  aigaine?     With  whome — You  longe  for  a  tile  or 

twoe  more? 
A.        Good  Sosia,  tell  me. 

fM.      Did  I  not  tell  you?     Most  louinglie  with  Alcumena. 
A.        In  the  same  Chamber? 
M.        I,  and  the  same  bedd,  to. 
A.        Then  I  am  undone. 
M.        [Aside.']     I  think  yt  gaine  that  he  calls  undoeinge,  to 

haue  a  mans  ground  sowed  to  his  handes.  210 

A.        Sosia ! 

M.        What  a  murreyne  wilt  thou  haue  with  Sosia? 
A.        Raskall,  doest  thou  knowe  me? 
M.        I,  slaue,  that  I  doe,  for  a  troublesome  fellowe;   wilt 

thou  begone? 
A.        I  tell  the  I  am  thy  maister  Amphitruo. 
M.        I  tell .  the  my  Master  Amphitruo  is  now  in  bedd  with 

my  mistres,  and  if  thou  beest  not  gone  the  soner,  I  will 

fetch  him  hither  to  trye  him-self . 
A.        For  Goddes  loue  let  me  but  see  him.  2» 

M.        Thou  shalt,  within  a  while,  bycause  thou  art  soe  desyrous. 

But  in  the  meane-time  se  you  medle  not  with  our  dores,  least 

now  he  hath  done  his  other  sacryfice,  he  come  out  and 

sacrifice  you. 

tFol.  26  b. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  153 

SCEN  II 
AMPHITRUO  BLEPHARO  80SIA 

A.  [Solus.]  0  Immortal  I  goddes,  what  desastrous  chance 
hath  enwrapt^  my  house  since  I  went  last  from  home?  Tis 
even  here,  I  feare  me,  as  it  was  in  Arcadie,  where  men  were 
changed  into  beastes  and  neuer  returned  to  their  former 
shape  againe.  Well,  here  will  I  pause  a  while  untill  I  may 
see  this  newe  Amphitruo. 

B.  You  tell  me  wonders,  Sosia,  that  you  should  finde  at 
home  another  iust  such  a  one  as  your-self. 

S.         But  here  ye  me :    when  I  am  found  another  Sosia,  and 

10         Amphitruo  another  Amphitruo,  what  will  you    sale    and 

you  finde  another  Blepharo?    [Aside.]     Would  he  might, 

I'faith,  and  finde  as  good  a  Cudgellinge  as  I  did  to,  and 

then  be  turned  home  againe  without  his  dynner. 

B.  You  tell  me  strange  thinges.  But  let  us  goe  faster,  least 
Amphitruo  staie  for  us. 

f  A.  I  thinke  yt  is  the  destinye  of  great  men  to  haue  semblable 
crosses  to  their  good  successe.  Soe  stories  recoumpt  of 
others,  and  soe  yt  is  fallne  out  with  me. 

S.         Sir,  Blepharo! 
30  B.         Whats  the  matter? 

S.  I  am  affraide  all  goes  not  well;  looke  you,  yonder 
standes  my  Maister  without,  and  the  dore  fast  shut. 

B.  Thates  nothinge ;  perhapps  he  takes  the  ayre  to  gett  him 
a  stomacke. 

S.  It  male  be  soe.  And  soe  he  shuttes  the  dore  that  his 
hunger  when  yt  comes  goe  not  in  and  eat  upp  the  meate 
before  him.  Marke  him,  for  godes  sake,  how  he  standes 
mumblinge  of  somethinge  to  him-self,  as  though  he  were 
castinge  up  of  his  Accoumptes.  And  he  should  call  upon 
30  me  no  we  I  should  make  him  a  faire  reckoninge.  Doe  not 
goe  soe  faste,  I  praie  the ;  let  us  listen  to  him  what  he 
sales. 

A.  I  am  affraied  the  goddes  are  angrie  with  me,  and  meane 
to  take  from  me  againe  the  glory  they  haue  giuen  me  by 
this  victorie.     All  my  family  is  in  a  confusion,  and  that 

»  ' '  Bef aline ' '  Is  crossed  out  in  MS.  t  FoL  27  a. 


154  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

which  is  my  greatest  greif ,  my  wief  hath  dishonored  my 
bedd.  But  of  all  wonders  yet  I  maruell  moste  to  finde  my 
cup  in  her  custodie,  the  seale  remayninge  still  unbroken. 
Besides,  could  she  not  tell  me  directlie  of  the  particulers 
of  the  battell?  Out  of  doubt  this  could  not  be  but  Sosia  40 
his  doeinge,  that  villeine,  who  besides  hath  wronged  me  soe 
much. 

S.         He  speakes  of  me. 

B.         I,  that  that  I  am  sorie  to  heare. 

S.         Whither  had  I  best  goe  to  him,  or  noe? 

B.         As  good  sone  as  signe,  man,  and  the  better  now  before 
he  growes  further  into  choller. 

S.         Thinke  you  soe? 

A.  Yet  it  wilbe  some  ease  to  me  if  I  maye  but  revenge  my- 
self of  that  villeine.  50 

S.         Doe  you  heare  him?     For  the  lone  of  god  let  me  be 
gonne. 

B.  Whither  wouldest  thou  goe,  man?     Thou  wilt  not  runne 
awaie,  I  am  sure. 

S.         I  am  indifferent  whither  I  doe  or  not. 

B.         I  warrant  the,  man ;   pluck  upp  a  good  harte.     You  a 

souldier ! 
S.         All  this  while  I  see  plainly  he  is  contryvinge  some  mis- 

cheif  against  me.     But  what  reason  has  he?"*" 
fA.       Doe  I  not  see  Blepharo?      I  muste  [ask]*  what  busineseo 

has  brought  him  hither.     But  tis  well  he  is  come ;  he  may 

doe  that  for  me  that  Naucrates  should  haue  done,  and 

helpe  to  convince  my  wief  of  her  forgeries  to  her  face. — 

What  good  newes  with  you,  Blepharo? 
B.         Haue  you  forgott  yourself  so  sone.  Sir?     Did  not  you 

send  Sosia  to  me  this  morninge  to  the  shipp  to  bidd  me 

come  to  you  to  dynner? 

A.  Not  I,  in  good  faith.     But  where  is  that  villeyne? 

B.  Whome  doe  you  meane? 

A.  Sosia.  TO 

B.  He  was  here  even  now.     (hie  nutu  agit  Sosia) 

A.  What,  he  was  not !     Whither  is  the  villeine  gone?    If  I 
kill  him  not,  let  him  upbraid  me  hereafter  with  the  base    . 
wronges  he  hath  done  me. — Haue  I  gott  you  at  last.  Sir? 

B.  I  beseech  you,  Sir,  haue  patience. 

+  Fol.  27 1).  » Word  omitted  in  MS. 


THE  Wiethe  of  hercules  155 

A.  Let  me  alone,  Blepharo,  for  he  shall  never  scape  my 
handes. 

B.  Heare  me,  sir,  but  a  word  first. 

A.        Speake  quickly,  for  I  will  endure  no  longe  delaye. 
80  S.         Why,  sir,  I  could  come  no  sooner,  I  am  sure,  unles  you 
would  haue  had   me  flye,  and  that  a  man  cannot  doe 
lightlie  without  winges. 

A.  By  heauens.  He  forbeare  him  no  longer. 

B.  I  praie  you.  Sir,  hould  your  handes ;  we  could  possibly 
come  no  faster. 

A.        What  tell  you  of  faster  or  softlier?    Doe  you   see  the 

house,  the  tyles,  my  head  broken? 
S.         *The  house,  the  tyles,  my  head  broken, '  quoth  he?    Why, 
had  I  your  head  in  kepinge  that  I  should  answere  for  the 
flo         breakinge  of  yt? 

A.  Hark  to  this  villeine.  Blepharo,  you  doe  me  wronge  to 
stale  my  hande.  Thinke  you  that  these  thinges  are  to  be 
put  upp  at  a  slaues  hand? 

B.  Whie,  Sosia,  what  sale  you  to  this? 

S.         I  praie  you.  Sir,  when  should  this  be  done? 

A.        Doest  thou  aske  me,  villeine?     Doest  thou  not  knowe? 

Twas  even  now  within  this  houre. 
S.         Lawe  ye,  now,  I  thought  soe  much.     And  did  not  you 

send  me  out  in  the  morninge  to  fetch  Blepharo  to  +dynner 
100         to  you,  and  haue  not  I  bene  with  him  eare  since? 
A.        Lyinge  villeine,  whoe  sent  the? 
S.         Marry,  even  you,  sir. 

A.  Does  thy  drinke  worke  in  the  still? 

S.  I,  mutch  drinke !  for  as  sone  as  I  was  come  you  set  me 
presentlie  to  looke  to  the  cleansinge  of  the  vesselles 
against  your  sacrifice,  and  as  sone  as  that  was  done,  you 
sent  me  abroad  to  fetch  him  here. 

B.  Sir,  let  me  perswade  you  a  litle.  By  this  I  now  here 
of  you,  comparinge  it  with  that  he  hath  tould  me,  I  feare 

110  some  vilde  magitian  hath  enchaunted  your  whole  famylie. 
It  were  best,  in  my  poore  aduise,  to  enquire  further  into  the 
matter,  before  you  prosecute  any  revenge  upon  him  whome 
perhapps  you  might  after  finde  Innocent,  and  then  yt 
would  greiue  you  to  late.  I  doe  not  think  he  durst  hauo 
attempted  this  against  you. 

+F0I.  28  a. 


156  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

A.  [Aside.]  He  sales  true,  and  I  care  not  if  I  folio  we  his 
councel. — Well,  Blepharo,  thou  hast  half  pers waded  me. 
But  thou  shalt  goe  in  with  me,  that  I  may  trie  whither  my 
wief  will  face  the  and  me  downe  to,  as  she  hath  done  him 
and  me  already.  12a 


SCEN    III 
JUPITEE  AMPHITRUO  SOSIA  BLEPHARO 

J.  [Solus.]  Whats  he  that  hath  kept  such  a  sturreat  our 
doore  to-daie?  I  think  he  hath  almost  remoued  yt  of  of  the 
hinges.  Would  I  might  see  him  that  hath  plaied  these 
reakes;  I  trust  I  should  teach  him  better  manners.  I 
maruell  Blepharo  is  soe  longe  a-comeinge.  I  sent  Sosia 
outtyme  enough  to  haue  brought  him  by  this  time. 

S.  Blepharo,  he  that  is  now  come  out  of  house,  he  is  my 
maister,  thates  certeine,  and  this  fellowe  here  is  a  Juggler. 

B.  0  Jupiter,  what  doe  I  see?  This  is  not  certeine ;  yonder 
is  Amphitruo.  la 

J.  0,  are  you  come,  sir?  I  am  gladd  ont,  for  of  my  word 
my  stomack  was  upp  a  good  while  agoe. 

S.         Did  not  I  saie  that  he  is  a  Juggler? 

A.  What  should  myne  be  then,  that  haue  not  eaten  yet  since 
my  arryuall?  He  may  haue  refresht  him-self  by  this  tyme, 
an  it  please  him,  out  of  my  store. 

fS.        Sir,  and  you  be  hungrie,  yonder  is  a  hartichoke  for  you. 

A.        Villeine,  hast  thou  neuer  done? 

S.  Villeine  in  your  face !  Your  trickes  shall  not  serue  you 
now  my  maister  is  come.  aa 

A.        My  trickes,  slave? 

J.  How  now,  sir,  what  are  you  that  menace  my  seruaunte 
in  my  presence? 

S.  I  beleiue  Master  Juggler,  you  haue  mett  with  one  will 
conuince  you  now. 

A.        Your  seruaunte,  sir? 

J.         I,  my  seruaunte,  soe  I  saie. 

A.        Tis  a  lye ;  he  is  myne. 

J.  Sirra,  goe  you  in  and  get  dynner  readie ;  in  the  meane- 
time  He  dresse  him  heare.  so 

t  Fol.  28  b. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  157 

S.  Goe  but  dresse  him  as  my  fellowe  Sosia  dreste  me.  But 
lie  goe  mak  dynner  readie ;  tis  the  best  worke  I  went  yet 
aboute  since  my  comeinge  home.     [Exit  Sosia.] 

J.         Now,  Sir,  is  it  you  that  saie  I  lye? 

A.        I  saie  thou  liest  lyke  a  damned  sorcerer  as  thou  arte,  that 
hast  by  thy  charmes  abused  me  and  my  whole  famylie. 
(Supplantat^  &  evaginat  et  gladium  simul) 

J.  For  this  reproach  will  I  here  presently  hange  the 
upp. 

A.  0,  helpe  me,  Blepharo,  helpe  me,  or  I  am  undone. 

40  B.         [Aside.]      They  are  soe  lyke  that  I  cannot  tell  which  of 
them  hath  the  wronge,  yet  I  will  doe  what  I  can  to  take  up 
the  matter  betwixt  them. — Amphitruo,  doe  not  kill  Amphi- 
truo ;  spare  his  lief. 
J.         Callest  thou  him  Amphitruo? 

B.  If  Amphitruo  were  as  he  was  wont  to  be,  and  as  other 
men  be,  a  single  Amphitruo,  I  might  then  possibly  wronge 
you,  but  now  the  fashion  of  doublinge  is  come  up  I  knowe 
no  more  reason  whie  one  should  be  Amphitruo  then  the 
other.     [Jupiter  seizes  Atnphitruo.] 

50  A.        0,  what  doest  thou  to  me? 

B.         Good  Amphitruo,  strangle  him  not. 

J.         Whie  tell  me,  doeth  he  seme  to  be  Amphitruo? 

B.         Both  of  you  seeme  no  lesse  to  me. 

A.  0  Almighty  Jupiter,  where  haue  I  loste  my  shape?  Let 
me  aske  him.     Are  you  Amphitruo? 

t J.       Doe  you  denye  yt? 

A.        Be  you,  a  goddes  name,  as  you  seeme  to  be,  a  better  man 
then  Amphitruo,  but  I  knowe  yt  there  is  no  other  Amphit- 
ruo in  Thebes  but  I. 
eo  J.         And  I  saie  there  is  none  but  I.    Let  Blepharo  be  Judge. 

A.  With  all  my  harte ;  I  desire  no  better. 

B.  Alas,  how  can  I  iudge  betwixt  you?  You  are  soe  lyke — 
yet  I  will  doe  the  best  I  can.  How  saie  you,  will  you  stand 
to  my  Judgment? 

A.  I  am  Content. 
J.         And  I. 

B.  [To  Amphitruo.]  Then  tell  me,  you,  before  the  battell 
began  what  specyall  charge  gaue  you  me? 

A.        To  keepe  my  shipp  still  in  readines. 

1  Looks  like  "suppluntat"  in  MS.  t  Fol.  29  a. 


158  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

J.         That  if  I  were  pub  to  the  wurst  I  might  recouer  her  for  to 
a  refuge. 

A.  Besides  to  haue  specyall  care  to  the  truncke  that  carryed 
my  treasure. 

J.         But  how  much  was  in  yt? 

B.  Nay,  let  me  aske  that  question ;   can  you  tell  your-self ? 
J.         Twenty  thousand  crownes. 

B.        As  iust  as  can  be. 

A.  I  cannot  denie  yt. 

B.  [To  Amphitruo.]     And  you,  how  many  ducketts? 

A.  Ten  thousand,  and  thre  thousand  double  pistolettes.        so 

B.  [Aside,]  Both  of  them  haue  answered  as  right  as  is 
possible.  I  cannot  tell  what  to  sale  to  yt,  if  one  of  them 
were  not  lockt  in  the  truncke. 

J.  Hark  ye  a  litle  further.  You  knowe  with  this  hand  I 
killed  kinge  Pterelas,  tooke  awaie  his  spoiles,  got  the  daie 
of  our  enymies,  was  presented  after  the  battell  with  the 
cupp  the  kinge  was  wont  to  drinke  in,  which  I  brought 
home  in  a  Caskett,  gaue  yt  my  wief,  with  whome  I  washt, 
supt,  and  laye  this  last  night. 

A.  Alas,  what  doe  I  heare?  I  am  scarse  my-self,  thatsoo 
right.  He  sales  I  am  not  Amphitruo.  I  finde  I  am  not 
my-self.  Wherein  is  our  difference?  Is  not  this  to  sleepe 
walkinge,  to  dye  beinge  aliue?  I  am,  out  of  doubte, 
Amphitruo.  Well  may  Enchantmentes  seaze  upon  my 
flesh,  or  the  baser  parte  of  my  soule,  my  affeccions,  but  as 
for  my  understandinge,  yt  is  a  brighter  light  then  can  be 
eclipst  by  all  the  blacknes  of  the  blackest  arte.  *I  knowe 
I  am  Amphitruo,  I,  the  captaine  of  the  Thebans,  who 
conquered  the  Taphians,  and  lefte  there  noble  Cephalus 
my  liefetenaunte.  loo 

J.  And  I  that  Amphitruo  that  slewe  those  outlawes,  the 
dreadful  foragers  of  my  country,  whoe  with  theire  pyracie 
awed  all  Archaia,  iEtolia,  Phocis,  the  Ionian,  (Egean,  and 
Cretick  seas. 

A.  0,  Immortall  godes,  I  no  longer  beleiue  my-self;  farewell 
understandinge  and  all,  if  he  thus  presentlie  recount  my 
storie.  Nowe  I  am  not  Amphitruo  the  captaine,  nor 
Amphitruo  the  conqueror  enricht  with  soe  many  spoiles, 
honored  with  soe  many  victories.    But  I  am  Amphitruo  the 

tFol.  29  b.  '      "       ' 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  159 

110  miserable.  Sir,  you  shall  not  take  this  from  me.  I  am 
poore,  unfortunate,  abieci  A.mphitruo ;  you  haue  noe  Inter- 
est in  all  this.  I  am  Amphitruo  the  dishonored,  the  dis- 
graced: will  you  fight  with  me  for  these  tytles?  I  am 
Amphitruo,  that  am  wronged  by  my  wief  and  my 
seruauntes :  sale,  are  you  he?  I  am  Amphitruo  that  am 
robde  of  my  wief  and  my  seruauntes.  I,  you  can  beare  me 
wytnes  I  am  hee.     0,  Blepharo,  looke  to  yt. 

B.  I  will  doe  my  best,  and  there  is  but  one  thinge  lefte  to 
helpe  me :  if  that  be  in  you  both,  you  must  even  be  f aine 
120  to  be  twoe  still  for  me ;  tis  more  then  I  can  doe  to  make 
you  one. 

J.  I  knowe  what  you  meane,  the  scarre  in  my  right 
shoulder  that  remaines  of  the  wound  kinge  Pterelas  gaue 
me. 

B.        The  same. 

A.  For  godes  sake,  looke  us  both  well. 
J.         Doest  thou  see  yt  or  noe? 

(Quid  si  similia  appareant  subucula  cum  defibulantur.) 

B.  Unbrase  your-self ;  lett  me  looke  on  you  to.  0  heauens, 
what  doe  I  see?    They  haue  yt  both  in  the  same  place,  of 

130  the  same  length,  the  scarre  yet  fresh  in  them,  and  the 
skynne  betwixte  redd  and  blue,  for  all  the  world  alyke. 
I  haue  done ;  let  them  that  haue  more  wy tt  then  I  giue 
Judgment  in  this  matter.  I  can  saye  nothinge  to  soe  nice 
a  difference:  even  take  yt  up  betwixt  you  for  me.  I  must 
be  gone.  I  haue  busines.  I  neare  sawe  the  like  to  this 
before. 

A.  Whie  Blepharo,  wilt  thou  then  forsake  me  at  this  pinche? 

B.  I  cannot  tell  which  of  you  I  forsake  bycause  He  displease 
neyther.     He  forsake  you  both. 

140 1 J.  And  I  will  to  Alcumena,  whoe  is  now  upon  the  point  of 
beinge  deliuered. 
A.  What  will  become  of  me  now?  Haue  all  forsaken  me, 
my  wief,  my  seruauntes,  my  freindes?  Whither  shall  I  goe? 
Into  the  house,  to  be  controuled  where  I  am  commander? 
Into  the  Cyttie  to  be  subiecte  to  their  tounges,  whose 
heades  not  longe  since  were  under  my  girdle?  To  the 
kinge,  to  be  highly  skomed  and  royallie  laught  at?  Was 
yt  the  will  of  the  Immortall  goddes  I  should  survyve  soe 

tFol.  30  a. 


160  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

many  daungers  in  my  youth  to  reape  disgrace  for  my  ages 
porcion?  Were  my  flaxen  haires  soe  often  adorned  withiso 
laurell,  and  shall  my  siluer  lockes  be  incircled  with  nettles? 
Tut,  yt  was  not  I.  Did  I  conquer  the  Taphians,  bringe 
under  the  Outlawes,  kill  kinge  Pterelas  with  my  owne 
handes,  and  now  suffer  my-self  to  be  Cockoulded  by  my 
wiefe,  flouted  by  my  seruauntes,  braued  by  a  stranger  at 
myne  owne  dores?  Well,  and  if  I  put  up  all  this  quietlie 
yt  was  not  I.  I  am  not  Amphitruo.  But  if  I  goe  in  & 
hewe  them  all  in  pecies  with  my  sworde  for  revenge,  then 
twas  I.  I  then  am  Amphitruo.  But  hark!  what  crye  is 
that  within?  i6» 

(post  clamorem  parientis  tonitru  ingens  quod  aliquam  diu 
continuetur  oportet.)  Alcmena  shrikes  out  within,  and  presently 
together  with  her  the  Drums  for  thunder.)* 

a  Tbe  passage  "Alcmena   .    .    .    thunder"  is  written  in  a  different  hand. 


ACTUS  QUINTUS 

SCEN^  I 

BROMIA  AMPHITRUO  DROMIO 

(Durante  tonitni  aperiente  se  ostio  cum  impetu,  Dromio 
excurrens  ex  aedibus  in  herum  iaoentem  titubet,  &  iuxta  concidat, 
totus  stupef actus.) 

B.  [Sohis.]  Alas,  alas,  what  a  daie  is  this!  My  feare  is 
such  as  I  cannot  tell  where  I  am.  Would  not  one  haue 
thought  that  heauen  and  earth  would  haue  come  together? 
My  head  akes  yet  with  the  noise.  I  thinke  I  shall  not  be 
well  this  moneth  againe.  Lord,  what  strange  thinges  are 
fallne  out  in  our  house !  As  my  ladye  was  in  traueyll  she 
called  upon  the  goddes  to  assyste  her.  Then  was  there 
presentlie  such  a  thunderinge  and  lighteninge  as  we  in  the 
house  fell  flatt  to  the  grounde  for  feare.     Then  I  knowe 

10  not  whoe,  but  some-bodie  with  a  huge  voyce  cried  out, 
**Alcumena,  feare  not;  the  goddes  haue  hard  thy  praiers 
«  and  their  cheif  comaunder  wilbe  propitious  to  the ;  and  you 
that  are  fallne,  rise  up  and  be  not  affraied."  With  that 
I  rose  up,  but  durst  scarse  open  myne  eyes  for  feare.  But 
as  sone  as  I  had  opened  them  I  was  wurse  affraied  then  I 
was  before,  for  our  house  did  shyne  soe  all  over  as  I 
verylie  thought  yt  had  bene  on  a  light  fier.  Then  my 
ladye  called  to  me  to  come  to  her,  and  when  I  was  come  I 
perceaued  she  was  deliuered  of  twoe  braue  boyes,  even  by 

30  the  grace  of  the  goddes,  without  help  of  ^mydwief  or 
maide. — But  who  be  these  that  lye  here?  Alas,  some,  out 
of  doubte,  that  haue  bene  smytten  with  thunder.  Yonder 
lookes  lyke  Dromio,  and  I  should  knowe  this  ould  gentle- 
man; I  feare  me  yt  is  my  Lord.  Out,  alas,  tis  he  indeed  1 
Dead,  or  aliue,  trowe  we? — Sir,  my  Lord ! 

A.  0  now  my  time  is  come. 

B.  Arise,  my  Lord,  arise,  if  you  be  aliue. 

tFol.  30  b. 

161 


162  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

A.  What  wilte  thou  doe  with  me? 

B.  Giue  me  your  hand ;  I  will  helpe  you  upp. 

A.  Whoe  takes  me  by  the  hande? 

B.  Your  handmaide,  Bromia. 

A.  I  am  all  in  a  cold  sweate  for  feare  since  Jupiter  hath 
threatned  me.    But  howe  durst  you  come  abroade? 

B.  Alas,  we  were  as  scared  within  as  you  were  abroade. 
0,  the  lord,  the  wonders  that  we  haue  seene  in  our  house! 
They  doe  yet  soe  amase  me  I  can  scarslie  speake. 

A.  But  tell  me,  wench,  I  praie  the,  doest  thou  knowe  me 
for  certeine  to  be  thy  maister  Amphitruo? 

B.  What  should  ayle  me  but  to  knowe  you? 

A.  I  praie  the  marke  me  well ;  be  sure.  40 

B.  I  am  sure ;  whie  do  you  make  yt  a  question? 

A.  This  wench  alone  is  well  of  all  my  househould. 

B.  Nay,  all  are  well  within,  thankes  to  the  goddes. 

A.  Would  I  Were  soe  to,  but  my  wief  hath  taken  order  with 
me  for  my  wellfare. 

B.  You  wilbe  of  another  minde  by  that  time  you  haue 
heard  all  I  can  tell  you,  and  finde  she  is  your  chaste  and 
loyall  wief. 

A.  Why,  what  canst  thou  sale? 

B.  First,  she  is  deliuered  of  twoe  twynnes.  so 

A.  Twoe  twynnes? 

B.  Twoe  twynnes. 

A.  Then  I  Hue  againe. 

B.  Let  me  tell  you  on,  that  you  may  knowe  the  Imortall 
goddes  meane  you  and  your  lady  well. 

A.  Speake  on. 

B.  When  she  was  upon  the  points  of  her  deliuery  expect- 
ing the  ordinary  panges  and  daungers  that  doe  accompanie 
weomen  in  such  case,  she  lifted  ^up  her  handes  to  heauen, 
and  bareheaded  called  devoutly  upon  the  goddes  for  their  6o 
assystance;  where-upon  presentlie  came  soe  mightie  a 
thunder-clapp  as  Ave  verilie  thought  the  house  would  haue 
fallne  upon  our  heades.  The  thunder  contynued  as  you 
heard,  and  in  the  meane-time  our  house  shined  all  over 
within,  as  if  yt  had  bene  colored  with  the  beames  of  the 
Sonne  settinge. 

A.        I  praie  the,  wench,  if  thou  comest  to  abuse  me  make  an 

t  Fol.  31  a. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  163 

end  quicklie,  and  hould  me  not  longe  in  this  fooles  para- 
dise. 
70 B.         Sir,   remoiie    this   suspiciousnes    of    yours;     I    speake 
nothinge  but  truth. 

A.  Then  goe  forwarde. 

B.  In  this  time  was  she  deliuered.  And  besides  one  shryke 
at  the  first,  rather  for  feare  then  for  any-thinge  els,  we 
neuer  perceaued  anie  token  of  anguish  in  her  deliuery. 

A.  I  am  gladd  to  heare  this,  howsoeuer  she  hath  deserued 
of  me. 

B.  Sir,  let  that  alone,  and  but  heare  me  on.  After  she  was 
deliuered  she  badd  us  washe  the  babes,  as  we  did,  but  that 

80  childe  I  washt,  lord,  what  a  choppinge  boye  it  is !  Whie,  sir, 
tis  half  a  man  already.  I  am  sure  twas  more  then  thre  of 
us  could  doe  to  binde  him  in  his  swadelinge  cloutes,  and 
yet  we  had  Sosia  to  help  us. 

A.  These  thinges  thou  tellest  me  be  strange.  They  be 
signes  indeed  that  the  goddes  are  on  her  side. 

B.  Nay,  this  is  nothinge  to  that  that  is  behinde.  After  we 
had  laide  them  in  the  cradle  there  came  glydinge  in  out  of 
the  base  courte  twoe  huge  highe  crested  serpentes,  and 
they  came    adnancinge    their    heades   dyrectlie  into  the 

&o         nursery. 

A.  What  then? 

B.  Feare  not,  Sir,  I  warrant  you.  Beinge  come  in,  they 
caste  their  heades  everye  waie  towardes  every  corner.  At 
last  they  moued  towarde  the  cradle.  I  plaict  it  still  from 
them  as  well  as  I  could,  beinge  aifraied  both  of  the  babes 
and  my-self.  They  made  the  more  still  after  yt,  till  at 
laste  this  childe  I  tould  you  that  is  soe  great  alreadie, 
espyinge  them,  lept  out  of  the  cradle,  assaulted  them, 
caught  one  in  one  hand  and  the  other  in  the  other. 

100  A.  Thou  makes  me  tremble  to  heare  the.  For  goddes  sake 
what  became  of  them?  Did  they  not  hurt  him? 
f  B.  Hurt  him?  Alas,  he  crusht  them  both  as  if  they  had  bene 
twoe  flyes  untill  he  lefte  them  for  deade.  Presently  after 
that  one  spake  to  my  Ladye  ^vith  a  mightie  voice,  whoe,  as 
he  said,  was  Jupiter  himself,  and  badd  my  lady  be  of  good 
cheare,  and  tould  her  this  boy  was  his. 
A.        Is  this  possible?     Were  it  soe,  I  should  hould  yt  no  dis- 

tFol.  31  tJ. 


164  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 

grace  to  haue  Jupiter  my  copartner.     Well,  Bromia,  goe 

in  and  I  will  folio  we  the. — But  whoe  lyes  here  as  if  he  were 

dead?     Out  of  doubt  tys  Dromio.     Howe  came  he  hither?  no 

I  will  raise  him. — Sirra,  Dromio ! 
D.        Oh,  oh,  oh! 
A.        What,  Dromio! 
D.        "Wliat  shalbe  come  of  me  nowe? 
A.        Why,  Dromio,  I  sale  arise,  man. 
D.        An  you  be  a  godd  of  your  handes  spare  my  lief  and  take 

that  that  I  haue. 
A.        I  maruell  not  to  see  this  villeine  soe  much  affraied  when 

I  my-self  even  now  was  in  the  lyke  case.     What,  Dromio,  I 

sale,  tis  I.  lao 

D.        An  yt  be,  sir,  thats  all  one.     I  haue  not  great  hast  to 

heauen  yet  an  yt  please  you  to  let  me  alone.     I  am  as 

well  here. 
A.        Whie,  tis  I,  man,  thy  maister. 
D.        I  knowe  you  are  maister,  sir,  to  better  men  then  I  am, 

yet  had  I  as  Hue  not  serne  you  at  this  time. 
A.        What  an  asse  is  this  to  feare  when  there  is  no  cause. 

I  tell  the  tis  I,  thy  maister,  Amphitruo. 
D.        An  you  haue  my  maister  Amphitruo,  sir,  you  may  the 

better  spare  me.  i» 

A.        *Have  him,'  quoth  he;  I  tell  the  I  am  he. 
D.        It  may  be  soe  sir,  but  how  shall  a  man  knowe  that? 
A.        Whie  loke  upon  me,  man. 
D.        I,  I  thought  soe;  now  ones  eyes  are  smytten  out  of  his 

heade  with  a    thunderboult,  you  would  haue   me  looke 

upon  you. 
A.        Whie,  I  warrant  the,  doe  but  looke  upp. 
D.        You  are  sure.  Sir,  you  se  no  more  thunder  sturringe? 
A.        I  warrant  the. 
D.        Well,  I  will  venture :  giue  me  your  hand.    Can  a  man  tell  140 

whither  I  see  or  no?     Let  me  see ;  doe  I  see,  or  am  I  ouer- 

seene?     By  this  ^Light,  I  see  indeed;   who  would  haue 

thought  yt?     0  maister,   where  haue  you  bene  all  this 

while?    Are  you  here  still? 
A.        Whie,  where  should  I  be  els? 
D.        *  Where,'  quoth  he;  by  heauen,  I  thought  you  hadd  bene 

in  heauen,  I. 

+F0I.  82  a. 


THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES  165 

A.        I  praie  the,  ho  we  should  I  come  thither? 
D.        I  doe  not  meane  you  should  haue  gone  thither,  but  that 
150         yt  should  haue  come  to  you.     Why,  whoe  would  not  haue 

thought  but  heauen  and  earth  by  this  time  had  come 

together? 
A.        Thou  seest  I  am  here  yet. 
D.        I,  and  am  gladd  to  see  yt  to,  I  male  tell  you,  for  I  nere 

thought  to  haue  scene  yt  with  these  eyes  againe.      But 

maister,  wott  you  what,  I  haue  hadd  the  strangest  dreame 

I  thinke  that  euer  you  hard. 
A.        Whye,  what  was  that? 

D.        That  yt  should  raine  soe  longe  till  our  house  were  of  a 
160         light  fyre,  and  then  my  mistres  should  be  deliuered,  god 

blesse  us,  of  twoe  boyes  and  twoe  serpentes,  and  one  of 

the  serpentes  should  kill  the  twoe  boyes,  and  one  of  the 

boyes  should  kill  the  twoe  serpentes. 
A.        This  is  a  strange  dreame  indeed. 

(The  soft  musick  with  the  song  therin  by  Jupiter,  y 
D.        0  harke,  maister,  more  thunder,  more   thunder!     In, 

and  you  loue  your-self ! 

(Audiatur  quasi  incipiens  musica,  vel  buccinarum,  vel  organo- 

rum,  de  coelo  histrioni[o]o.) 


SCENA    II 
JUPITER  AMPHITRUO 

J.         Amphitruo ! 

A.        This  voyce  is  from  heauen ;  I  must  doe  reuerence. 

(Iterum  sonet  musica  coelestis  aliquod  interstitium. 

Procxmibit  in  faciem  Amphitruo.) 


SCEN    III 


JUPITER   SOLUS 


Amphitruo,  feare  not,  but  take  thy  wief  againe.  The 
boyes  she  is  deliuered  of,  one  of  them  was  begotten  by  the, 
the  other  by  me :  IWlbome  f  w^ll  baue  caUeD  f)ercule0. 

(hie  chorus  audiatur  cantans  quasi  de  coelo,  ultima  verba  Jovis) 

( )  written  in  a  different  hand. 


166  THE  BIRTHE  OF  HERCULES 


tscEif  mi 


JUPITER   SOLUS 


Amphitruo,  the  confusion  of  thy  house  was  wrought  by 
me  for  my  owne  pleasure.  In  recompense  wherof  I  haue 
giuen  the  21  Sonne  tbat  Bball  crownc  tb^  mortall  bcaDe 
mi^tb  ITmmortalistle. 

(hoc  etiam  decantet  choms) 


SCEN    V 
JUPITER  AMPHITRUO 

J.         Amphitruo,  be  f reindes,  therefore,  with  Alcumena,  for 
she  is  true,  and  nere  toucht  man  but  thou. 
2ln&  0OC  f^e  bappie  Blcumena,  be  bappie  Bmpbltruo. 

(hoc  denique  decantet  chorus) 
A.         All    rulinge    Jupiter,   yt    shalbe  as    thou   comandest. 
(finite  chorus) 

{     (Postremo  audiatur  prima  ilia  coelestis  musica,  ita  ut  sonus 
paulatira  ascenders  videatur) 


TmsIhjij 


poGtao  ad  pelettm 

prinrftps  Pp.lp.n  tn>'^  pro  indjrio^  vn]f» 
bf>,Tin  r^o^tfl,Tn  nrnnrih-rilMMij  i' t^l ZEgrrt^riSs, 
W.I  vrtirori'  hnn  cot,  dut  rirfrrtrpftf^ 

S^fi^ir-ae€  poeta,  nee 


+  Fol.  32  b- 

1  These. lines  appear  in  the  original  MS.  crossed  out  as  indicated. 


NOTES 

The  manuscript  of  the  play  is  in  the  British  Museum  {Add.  28722). 
Regarding  the  author  I  have  been  able  to  discover  nothing,  nor  does  it 
seem  possible  to  fix  the  exact  date  of  composition.  Manuscript 
experts  of  the  British  Museum  conjecture  from  the  hand  and  from  the 

^  paper  that  the  manuscript  belongs  to  the  period  between  the  years 

1610  and  1620,— that  it  has  "altogether  a  seventeenth  century  look." 

But  we  have  good  reason  for  believing  that  the  play  belongs  to  a 

.  period  slightly  antecedent  to  1610.  By  an  act  of  Parliament  3  James  I 
chap.  21,  "an  Act  to  restrain  the  abuses  of  Players,"  it  is  provided 
that  "for  the  preventing  and  avoiding  of  the  great  abuse  of  the  holy 
Name  of  God  in  Stage-playes,"  etc.,  a  fine  of  ten  pounds  shall  be 
imposed  upon  any  person  who  "shall  in  any  Stage-play,  Enterlude, 
Sew  [shew],  May-game,  or  Pageant,  jestingly  or  prophanely  speak,  or 
use  the  Name  of  God  or  of  Jesus  Christ,  or  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  or  of  the 
Trinity.  ..."    It  was  in  accordance  with  the  provisions  of  this  act,  as 

,  is  well  known,  that  many  of  the  freer  expressions  in  the  earlier  Shak- 
spere  quartos  were  modified  in  the  first  folio.  It  would  seem  highly 
probable,  then,  that  we  may  assign  the  play  to  the  period  between 

.1600  and  1606.  Hazlitt  in  his  Collector's  Manual  gives  as  the  date  of 
composition  "about  1590,"  but  this  would  seem  to  be  a  mere  con- 
jecture.   The  line  in  the  Prologus  Laureatus  which  states  that 

,  Thepilogue  is  in  fashion,  prologues  no  more, 

seems  to  furnish  us  with  a  clue,  but  when  we  attempt  to  follow  its 
leading  it  proves  of  little  service.  References  to  contemporary  prac- 
tice in  the  matter  of  prologues  and  epilogues  occur  occasionally  in 
Elizabethan  plays.  Compare,  for  example,  the  epilogue  to  As  You 
Like  it.  The  Prologue  to  The  Woman  Hater  by  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher  (1607)  begins  as  follows:  -"Gentlemen,  Inductions  are  out 
of  date,  and  a  Prologue  in  verse  is  as  stale  as  a  black  velvet  cloak  and 

•  a  bay  garland:  therefore  you  shall  have  it  in  plain  prose,  thus."  A 
similar  reference,  though  specifically  made  with  regard  to  the  apolo- 

f  getic  prologue  to  a  mask,  occurs  in  Romeo  and  Juliet  I.  iv.  3  (1594-96?), 
where  Benvolio  declares  that  "the  date  is  out  of  such  prolixity. "  The 
fact  that  the  date  of  composition  of  many  of  the  plays  which  were 
written  in  the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth  century  can  not  now  be 
determined  accurately  makes  the  question  more  difficult,  but  if  we 
take  the  works  of  Heywood,  Chapman,  Shakspere,  Jonson,  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher  alone,  we  find  it  almost  impossible  to  say  that  at  any 
time  during  the  last  decade  of  the  sixteenth,  or  the  first  thirty  years 
of  the  seventeenth  century  the  epilogue  was  particularly  popular  or 
the  prologue  falling  into  disuse.  The  probability  would  seem  to  be 
that  the  reference  is  of  a  very  local  character. 

The  suggestion  presents  itself  that  possibly  The  Birthe  of  Hercules 

1G7 


168  NOTES 

is  one  of  the  plays  which  were  Englished  by  W.  W.,  the  translator  of 
the  Menaechmi.  A  comparison  of  the  play,  however,  with  the  single 
work  of  this  author  which  has  come  down  to  us,  gives  no  reason  for 
accepting  the  theory  of  identity  of  authorship.  General  technique, 
the  method  of  treating  the  original,  the  language  used  in  the  English 
versions — none  of  these  show  any  real  similarity. 

Relation  of  TJie  Birthe  of  Hercules  to  the  Amphitruo 
The  Birthe  of  Hercules  is  a  translation,  now  free,  now  rather  close, 
of  the  Amphitruo  of  Plautus ;  nearly  one-third  of  the  English  play, 
however,  is  entirely  original.     A  detailed  comparison  of  the  dramas 
will  make  their  relation  to  each  other  more  apparent. 

The  Birthe  of  Hercules  is  preceded  by  a  Prologus  Laureatus  of  fifty- 
six  lines  which  opens  with  an  excuse  for  itself.  The  origin  of  the  play 
is  then  declared,  as  well  as  its  popularity  in  ancient  times.  The 
criticism  of  those  who  "for  addinge  to  yt  and  alteringe  yt  must  be 
offended"  is  forestalled  by  citing  the  custom  of  Plautus  and  Terence  in 
dealing  with  their  Greek  originals.  The  objection  of  those  who  "will 
condempne  as  unfyttinge  heathen  mouth  the  use  of  Christian  asseuer- 
acions"  is  also  considered  and  dismissed  lightly,  for  "our  poet  lookes 
not  to  doe  more  then  Joue  himself,  who,  raine  he  or  hould  he  up,  pleases 
not  alL  "  This  prologue  is  of  course  entirely  original  with  the  English 
author. 

The  acrostic  argument  is  omitted  and  next  follows  Mercurius  Pro- 
logus, corresponding  to  the  prologue  of  the  Amphitruo  which,  how- 
ever, has  been  much  shortened.  The  greater  part  of  Mercury's  speech 
in  the  Amphitruo,  in  which  he  announces  himself  as  the  messenger  of 
his  father,  Jupiter,  and  entreats  silence,  is  omitted.  So,  too,  is  his 
juggling  with  the  question  as  to  whether  the  play  shall  be  a  tragedy  or 
comedy,  his  orders  to  the  conquisitores  to  take  measures  against  those 
who  may  have  been  suborned  to  applaud  individual  actors,  and  his 
threats  against  the  Aediles  if  they  do  not  perform  honestly  their  duty 
as  judges.  To  the  latter  part,  in  which  Mercury  sets  forth  the  subject 
of  the  play,  the  English  prologus  bears  in  most  places  a  general  resem- 
blance. The  chief  departure  of  The  Birthe  of  Hercules  from  its  orig- 
inal, however,  is  here  indicated.  "Whereas  in  the  Amphitruo  the 
general  sends  only  his  servant  Sosia  as  a  messenger,  the  plot  is  com- 
plicated in  The  Birthe  of  Hercules  by  sending  "after  him  another  for 
faile. "    Only  in  one  or  two  instances  do  we  find  literal  translation,  a  g  : 

The  place  where  we  now  are  is  Thebes, 
This  is  Amphitruo  his  house, 
A  great  lord  of  this  countrie. 
Haee  urhs  est  Thebae:  in  illisce  habitat  aedibus  Amphitruo,  natus  Argis  ex  Argo 
patre.     (U.  97-8.) 

and  again : 

But  that  you  may  know  us  asunder  I  will  were  in  my  hatt  a  i)eice  of  a  f ether 

lor  a  difference. 

Nunc  internosse  ut  nos  pottitis  faciliua 

Ego  has  habebo  usque  in  petaso  pinnulas.    (11.  142-43.) 

Practically  the  same  information  is  given  in  the  two  prologues,  but 


NOTES  169 

unimportant    omissions,    additions,    and    modifications    are     made 
throughout. 

At  the  end  of  this  prologue,  and  on  the  same  folio  stands  the  list  of 
dramatis  personae:  in  Plautus  it  precedes  the  acrostic  argument.  The 
order  is  slightly  different  in  the  English  play,  which  has  the  one 
added  character— I>rowio  alter  Ser.  Amphyt. 

The  elaborate  stage  directions  of  The  Birthe  of  Hercules  are,  of 
^course,  original  with  its  author.  Throughout  Act  I,  Sc.  i,  we  have  a 
fairly  close  correspondence.  Frequently  the  translation  is  almost 
literal,  though  slight  departures  from  the  original  occur  everywhere. 
For  instance,  the  references  to  Dromio  and  Thessala,  as  also  the  rather 
.pathetic  attempt  at  witticism  suggested  by  the  expression  "bridle  that 
tounge  of  youres,"  are  additions.  In  the  passage  where  Mercury 
announces  that  his  cudgel  has  put  four  men  to  sleep,  and  Sosia  fears 
that  his  name  may  be  changed  to  Quintus,  the  English  author  has 
found  it  more  convenient  to  juggle  with  the  numbers  nine  and  ten. 
In  Plautus  the  seal  is  simply  cum  quadrigis  Sol  exoriens;  in  The  Birthe 
of  Hercules  this  is  expanded  to  "The  Sonne  rysinge  drawn  in  an  azure 
ooatch  with  foure  flame  colored  horses."  But  except  such  slight 
.departures — and  they  are  rather  numerous—the  correspondence  is 
close. 

Sc.  ii,  in  which  Mercury  in  a  monologue  announces  the  approach  of 
.Dromio,  and  Sc.  iii,  in  which  he  imposes  on  the  latter  by  playing  the 
role  of  Sosia,  are  additions  entirely.  On  the  other  hand  Sc.  ii  of  the 
Amphitruo,  in  which  Mercury  soltis  tells  the  audience  how  Jupiter  will 
finally  free  Alcmena  from  suspicion,  is  entirely  omitted.  Sc.  iv  of 
Tlie  Birthe  of  Hercules  follows  Sc.  iii  of  the  Amphitruo  rather  closely, 
and  includes  Sc.  iv — Jupiter's  address  to  night. 

Act  II,  Sc.  i,  a  dialogue  between  Alcmena  and  Thessala,  is  an 
'  addition.  Alcmena's  first  speech  corresponds  to  her  monologue  at  the 
beginning  of  Sc.  ii  of  the  Amphitruo,  but  only  in  a  general  way,  for 
in  the  latter  she  is  reconciled  to  her  husband's  absence  because 
Virtus  omnibus  rebus  anteit  profecto  .  .  .  Virtus  omnia  in  sese  habet; 
in  The  Birthe  of  Hercules  we  have  one  long  complaint  regarding 
woman's  lot,  in  which  Thessala  joins  warmly. 

Sc.  ii,  in  which  Sosia  relates  to  his  master  his  wonderful  experience, 
and  his  doubts  as  to  his  own  identity,  corresponds  closely  to  Sc.  i  of 
the  Amphitruo. 

Sc.  iii,  the  meeting  of  Alcmena  and  Amphytrion,  follows  the  gen- 
eral progress  of  Sc.  ii  of  the  Amphitruo,  but  with  some  changes. 
Alcmena's  opening  soliloquy  about  Penelope  and  her  weaving  is  sub- 
stituted for  the  reflections  on  the  general  unhappiness  of  woman's  lot 
which  have  been  made  use  of  in  the  first  scene.  Thessala  is  a  charac- 
ter; in  Plautus  she  is  present,  but  merely  for  the  purpose  of  executing 
the  command  of  her  mistress  to  bring  in  the  casket.  We  have  also  an 
added  reference  to  another  servant,  for  when  Alcmena  sends  Thessala 
on  her  errand  she  adds:  "Bid  Ragazzo  come  too."  Amphytrion 
accuses  his  wife  of  having  gained  her  information  about  his  success  in 
l^attle  from  Dromio. 


170  NOTES 

Act  III,  Sc.  i — Jupiter  solus — follows  closely  Sc.  i  of  the  Amphitruo. 
Jupiter's  references  to  Juno  are  both  additions.  Sc.  ii  corresponds  ta 
Sc.  ii  of  the  Amphitruo.  The  only  difference  here  is  in  the  motif  of 
the  reconciliation.  In  the  Amphitruo  Alcmena  yields  to  her  supposed 
husband's  entreaties ;  in  The  Birthe  of  Hercules  she  yields  only  after 
he  has  taken  her  refusal  as  final,  and  has  announced  that  he  will 
leave  Thebes  forever,  upon  which  she  rejoins : 

The  goddes  f orbidd  that  for  my  sake  you  should  wroDge  your  countrie  soe 
much. 

Sc.  iii  corresponds  to  Scs.  iii  and  iv^  of  the  Amphitruo,  but  only  in 
the  most  general  way.  Alcmena  upbraids  Sosia  for  his  past  conduct, 
whereas  in  Plautus,  Jupiter  merely  tells  Sosia  that  a  reconciliation  has 
taken  place.  The  latter  part  of  the  scene  is  a  monologue  in  which 
Jupiter  explains  how  he  will  have  Amphytrion  prevented  from  enter- 
ing his  own  house, — and  that  by  the  agency  of  Dromio;  in  Plautus 
Jupiter  addresses  Mercury — tu  divine  Sosia — directly,  and  orders  him 
to  refuse  ingress  to  Amphytrion. 

Sc.  iv  is  a  long  dialogue  between  Jupiter  and  Dromio  and,  of 
course,  is  in  its  entirety  an  addition. 

Sc.  V  Mercury  solus.  This  is  a  much  modified  version  of  Act  IV, 
Sc.  i,  of  the  Amphitruo.^  Mercury  explains  how  he  and  Dromio  will 
keep  Amphytrion  out.  In  the  Amphitruo  Mercury  indulges  in  some 
swaggering  declarations  of  his  divinity,  and  explains  to  us  how  duti- 
ful a  son  he  is, — all  of  which  is  omitted  in  Tlie  Birthe  of  Hercules. 

Act  IV,  Sc.  i,  corresponds  in  general  to  Scs.  ii  and  iii'  of  the 
Amphitruo,  but  the  whole  is  greatly  lengthened  and  the  plot  much 
complicated  by  the  fact  that  Dromio  plays  an  important  part  here. 

Sc.  ii.  The  opening  speech  corresponds  to  the  last  speech  of  Sc. 
iii  in  Plautus.  The  rest  follows  Sc.  iv  of  Plautus  with  numerous 
changes.  For  example,  Amphytrion's  monologue  is  much  shortened 
by  the  omission  of  the  mythological  details. 

Sc.  iii  follows  Scs.  v  and  vi  of  Plautus  rather  closely.  Amphyt- 
rion's bitter  protest:  "But  I  am  Amphitruo,  the  miserable.  Sir,  you 
shall  not  take  this  from  me,"  etc.,  is  an  addition.  The  concluding 
speech  by  Amphytrion  is  much  expanded,  and  does  not  follow  the  last 
part  of  the  corresponding  speech  in  Plautus. 

Act  V,  Sc.  i,  is  an  almost  literal  translation  of  Sc.  i  of  the  Amphit- 
ruo, only  a  few  unimportant  changes  being  introduced.  The  chief  of 
these  is  the  omission  of  the  first  two  sentences  of  Bromia's  speech. 
The  latter  part  of  the  scene,  however,  —  the  dialogue  between 
Amphytrion  and  Dromio  is,  of  course,  an  addition. 

Scs.  ii,  iii,  iv,  and  v — Jupiter's  explanation — correspond  to  Sc.  ii 
of  the  Amphitruo — not  a  word-for-word  translation,  however 

» The  Teubner  text  does  not  divide  Scs.  iii  and  iv  of  Plautus. 

•  The  Teuhner  text  gives  only  one  short  scene— the  final  one  between  Blephara 
and  Amphytrion— to  Act  IV,  but  the  division  of  Echard  and  Thornton  here  fol- 
lowed seems  the  more  logical. 

3  Here  at  line  1035  begins  the  part  which  many  scholars  believe  not  to  have 
been  written  by  Plautus. 


NOTES  171 

We  may  now  sum  up  the  results  of  the  above  analysis.  Nearly 
one-third  of  the  English  play  is  quite  independent  of  Plautus,  to  such 
Ian  extent  has  the  author  made  use  of  the  idea  of  introducing  a  second 
servant — Dromio.  But  in  no  sense  has  this  important  change  modi- 
fied the  general  conception  of  characters  or  plot.  Here  we  have  sub- 
stantially perfect  correspondence,  and  the  order  of  development  is 
rigidly  adhered  to.  In  many  places,  as  we  have  noted,  it  is  a  case  of 
almost  literal  translation,  though  ordinarily  the  author  has  not  hesi- 
tated to  curtail,  expand,  or  alter  his  original  to  suit  his  own  purpose. 
As  compared  to  Plautus,  he  is  much  more  interested  in  the  elaboration 
,of  a  comic  situation  than  in  the  development  of  the  plot,  and  his  suc- 
cessive expansions  and  curtailings  have  usually  been  in  accordance 
with  this  predilection,  which  carries  in  itself  the  explanation  of  his 
insertion  of  the  role  played  by  Dromio.  The  genuinely  diverting  char- 
acter of  the  play  is  the  all-sufficient  justification  of  the  English 
author's  departure  from  his  original.  As  to  the  greater  improbability 
which  is  thus  introduced,  we  may  accept  here  iSchlegel's  defence  of 
Shakspere's  similar  procedure  in  his  Comedy  of  Errors-.  "When 
once  we  have  lent  ourselves  to  the  first,  which  certainly  borders  on  the 
incredible,  we  should  not  probably  be  disposed  to  cavil  about  the 
second ;  and  if  the  spectator  is  to  be  entertained  with  mere  perplex- 
ities they  cannot  be  too  much  varied." 

Page  99:  line  13.  Clapt  by  Consults  and  emperors.  "Now  so  hlghlle  were 
comedies  esteemed  in  those  dales  that  men  of  great  honor  and  grave  account  were 
the  Actors,  the  Senate  and  the  Counsuls  contlnxiallie  present,  as  auditors  at  all 
such  sports.  ..."  Francesca's  Fortunes,  or  the  Second  Part  of  Greene's  Ifever 
too  Late,  ed.  Grosart,  Vol.  VIII,  p.  131. 

99:  18.  Borras  tale.     * 'Probably  a  form  of  'Borrer—rade  or  clown- 
ish.    From  burellns,  coarse  cloth ;  in  which  sense  horrel  is  also  used  by 
Chaucer." — Nares.     The  word  is  also  written  &oreZ  or  &t<reZ.    Cf. 
"But,  sires,  by-cause  I  am  a  burel  ma.Ji."— Canterbury  Tales.    F.  716. 
i.e.,  rough  or  unlettered. 

99:  22.  Inkhome  wordes.  "To  use  inkhorn  terms,  i.e.,  to  write 
affectedly  and  use  fine  language. " — Halliwell.    The  term  was  in  very 

common  use. 

Men,  that  removed  from  their  inkehorne  termes 
Bring  forth  no  action  worthie  of  their  bread. 

Summer's  Last  Will  and  Testament,  Nash's  Works 
ed.  Grosart  Vol.  VI,  p.  146. 

99 :  26.  Bycause  ould  fhinges  are  stale.     Cf . 

"  Alonso  of  Aragon  was  wont  to  say  in  commendation  of  age,  that  age  appears 
to  be  best  in  four  things,— old  wood  best  to  burn,  old  wine  to  drink,  old  friends  to 
trust,  and  old  authors  to  read."— Bacon,  Apothegms.    No.  97. 

99:  32.  Orandame  Jone  and  Grandsire  John.  In  The  Trial  of 
Treasure  (Dodsley  III,  p.  276),  Inclination  the  Vice  says: 

Now,  by  my  halidom,  it  is  alone  a  : 

Better  sport  in  my  life  I  never  saw. 

It  is  trim  I  tell  you  to  dance  with  John  and  Jone  a, 

We  pass  not  a  point  for  God  and  his  law. 

In  Ulpian  Fulwell's  Like  will  to  Like  (Dodsley  III,  p.  317),  the  Vice 
addresses  someone  in  the  audience  as  "Jone  with  the  long  snout,"  and 


172  NOTES 

again  (p.  332)  as  "gentle  Jone."  "'John-and-Joan^'  was  the  cant  phra8e> 
for  an  hermaphrodite. 

100:  34.  A  translated  sute,  i.e.,  they  like  an  imported  suit  of  clothes 
but  not  a  foreign  play. 

100 :  51.  Joue  himself,  who,  raine  he  or  hould  he  up,  pleases  not  all. 
Cf.  the  following  passage  from  Erasmus's  Colloquies  (Trans. by  N.Bailey, 
Reeves  and  Turner,  London,  1878):  "For  you  know  that  saying  of 
Theocritus  that  was  as  truly  as  it  was  wittily  said  Jovem  nee  pluvium 
nee  serenum  placere  omnibus;  That  Jupiter  does  not  please  all  Men 
either  when  he  sends  Rain  or  fair  Weather,"  Vol.  II,  p.  256  The 
quotation  is  not  from  Theocritus  but  from  Theognis,  25-26.  He  is  say- 
ing that  he  can  not  hope  to  please  everybody — "For  not  even  Zeus 
pleases  all  whether  he  gives  or  holds  back  the  rain." 

0^5^  yap  6  Zei>$ 
oCd*  t5wv  Tavreffff   &v  Sdv€i  oinr* 

wad  again  he  says  in  line  803:  "Not  even  Zeus,  the  son  of  Ej*ono8r 
who  rules  over  mortals  and  immortals,  can  please  all  men." 

101 :  1.  You  would  thinke  yt  were  dale,  etc.  Plays  ordinarily  began 
Hbout  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 

101:  15.  One  of  the  maddest  prankes.  The  hero  of  Ja4ik  Juggler 
characterizes  that  play  in  similar  terms: 

And  now,  if  all  things  happen  right, 

You  shall  see  as  mad  a  pastime  this  night. 

As  you  saw  this  seven  years.— Dodsley,  II,  p.  113. 

*01 :  23.  Teleboians.  "Taphiae  Insulae — a  number  of  small  islands  in 
the  Ionian  Sea,  lying  between  the  coasts  of  Leucadia  and  Acarnania. 
They  were  also  called  the  islands  of  the  Teleboae,  and  their  inhabit- 
ants were  in  like  manner  named  Taphii  or  Teleboae." — Smith's 
Classical  Dictionary. 

102:  39,  42.  For  faile;  for  disturheing.  "For"  is  used  in  the  sense 
of  **for  fear  of"  or  "to  prevent."  The  usage  is  common  in  Chaucer, 
6hakspere,  and  many  early  authors.     Cf. 

He  yet  lies  with  his  mother  for  catching  cold. 

MotJier  Bombie,  Ltly's  Works,  ed.  Fairholt,  Vol.  II,  p.  81. 
or 

He  wolde  the  see  were  kept  for  anything 

Chaucbb,  Prologue,  1.  276. 

103:  10.  What  skilt  youf  What  does  it  concern  you?  What  busi- 
ness is  it  of  yours?    Cf . 

Let  them  sit  still :  it  skills  them  not  what  chance  come  on  the  dice. 

Complaint  of  the  absence  of  her  lover  being  on  the  sea,  Sitbbkt. 

103:  17.  A  knavish  skonce.     "Skonce"  means  "head,"  or  "skull." 

One,  Onaphets,  had  broken  his  knave's  sconce. 

Damon  and  PUhias  (Dodsley,  Vol.  IV,  p.  65). 

Here  it  is  used  rather  in  the  sense  of  "wit,"  "disposition."     Cf. 

Laudo  ingenium.    I  like  thy  skonce. 

Mother  Bombie,  LTLY'S  Works,  Vol.  II,  p.  90. 


NOTES  na 

104:  31.  Well  Countenanced.  Handsome,  good-looking.  The  word 
"coiintenanced"  was  used  to  denote  a  portrait.  This  is  an  example  of 
the  adjective  in  -ed;  cf.  the  appendix  to  Schmidt's  Shakespeare 
Lexicon  for  examples. 

106:  120.  Interteine  a  man  of  free  cost  at  the  signe  of  the  Cudgell. 
Cf.  the  possibly  similar  expression,  "Jack  Drum's  entertainment,'* 
The  Three  Ladies  of  London  (Dodsley  VI,  p.  324);  "John  Drum's 
entertainment"— ^Zrs  Well  That  Ends  Well  (Act  III,  Sc.  vi).  A  third 
variation  of  the  name  is  given  in  Holinshed — "Tom  Drum,  his  enter- 
tainment, which  is  to  hole  a  man  by  the  head  and  thrust  him  out  by 
both  the  shoulders."  Cf.  also,  "Are  you  disposed  to  eat  any  fist- 
meat?" — Jack  Juggler,  Grosart  ed.,  p.  47. 

107:  144.  Tis  a  Cudgell  for  the  nance,  i.e.,  "just  right";  "exactly 
suited  to  the  occasion. " 

107:  158.  At  a  venture,  i.e.,  at  random,  as  in  Shakspere  or  the  King 
James  version  of  the  Bible.  The  use  in  the  present  connection  seems 
a  little  peculiar. 

107:  169.  A  monstrous  euill  takinge,  i.e.,  predicament. 

Look  ye,  sirrah,  where  your  fellow  lies; 
He's  in  a  fine  taking,  is  he  not? 
The  Two  Angry  Women  of  Abington,  Dodslbt,  Vol.  VII,  p.  808. 
What  a  taking  was  he  in  when  your  husband  asked  who  was  in  the  basket. 

The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  III.  ill.  191. 
We  are  all  in  sad  taking  with  influenza. 

Fboude,  Jane  Welsh  Carlyle,  Vol.  I,  p.  49. 

108:  178.  Home  an  you  will,  hut  lantemein  your  face.  Sosia  seems 
to  be  attempting  a  pun  on  the  word  "lanthorn," — "a  popular  spelling 
simulating  horn,  in  supposed  allusion  to  the  transparent  plates  of  horn 
which  often  formed  the  sides  of  lanterns." — Century  Diet. 

108:  187.  Bridle  that  tounge,  etc.  Similar  naive  wit,  introducing^ 
the  "horse,"  "ass,"  and  the  expression  "to  bridle  the  tongue,"  is  to  be 
found  in  The  Trial  of  Treasure,  Dodsley,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  278-280. 

109:  229.  Ivjill  giue  you  a  bombastinge,  i.e.,  a  beating. 

I  will  so  codgel  and  bombaste  thee  as  thou  shalte  not  be  able  to  sturre  thyself e. 

Palace  of  Pleasure,  Vol.  I,  p.  151. 

110:  253.  Would  you  were  els  for  me.  An  interesting  example  of 
this  peculiar  Elizabethan  use  of  "els."  Similarly  used  on  page  125, — 
"Would  I  were  els  for  my  owne  sake." 

110:  259.  Stockfish.  Sosia  refers  to  the  manner  in  which  he  has 
been  cudgelled.  Beating  was  part  of  the  process  of  curing  stockfish,  a 
name  which  is  applied  to  several  kinds  of  fish,  hard-dried  and  with- 
out salt.  The  word  is  used  a  number  of  times  by  Shakspere  and 
Jonson. 

I'll  turn  my  mercy  out  o'  doors  and  make  a  stock-fish  of  thee. 

Tempest  IIL  11.  79. 

Slight,  ];>eacel  thou  wilt  be  beaten  like  a  stock-fish. 

JSvery  Man  in  His  Humour,  III,  li. 

110:  263.  I  would  nothaue  said  Sosia;  I  would  haue  said  'Soe  as 
you  saie.'    Sosia's  pun  is  at  least  worthy  of  its  Latin  original.     Cf. 

Me.  Amphitruonis  te  esse  aiebas  Sosiam.  So.  Pecaueram:  'Amphitruoni& 
socium'  neme  esse  volul  dicere. 


174  NOTES 

113:  6.  A  kind  of  Bassiter,  i.e.,  ambassador.  Dromio  may  also  be 
attempting  a  punning  reference  to  the  game  "Ambassador"— "a  trick 
to  duck  some  ignorant  fellow  or  landsman,  frequently  played  on  board 
ship  in  the  warm  latitudes." — Brand,  Popular  Antiquities,  VoL  II, 
p.  391. 

114:  13.  The  backe-tricke.    A  kind^of  dance.     Cf. 

I  think  I  -have  the  back-trick  simply  as  strong  as  any  man  in  Illyria.— 
Twelfth  mght  I.  iU.  131. 

114:  15.  The  mayepole  snikepace.  It  is  difficult  to  tell  "whether 
this  is  a  form  due  to  Dromio,  or  whether  the  relative  positions  of  the 
"i"  and  "n"  became  accidentally  changed  in  the  manuscript.  At  any 
rate  Sink-a-pace — a  corruption  of  cinque-pace — is  intended.  Cinque- 
pace,  see  Nares  S.  V.  There  is  possibly  a  quibble  intended  on  the  first 
part  of  the  word.     Cf . 

Wooing,  wedding,  and  repenting  is  as  a  Scotch  jig,  a  measure,  and  a  cinque 
pace.— ifwcA  Ado  II.  i.  77. 

114:  16.  The  wheelings  galyard.  A  whirling  dance  often  referred 
to  at  this  period.     Cf .  Jack  Juggler's  description  of  Alice  Trip-and-Go: 

She  quavereth  and  warble th  like  one  in  a  galliard. 

114:  20.  Tlie  Amonde  leaps.  "Amonde"  or  "Almond"  is  a  form  of 
the  word  "Almain,"  i.e.,  German.  "Almain"  is  the  more  common 
spelling  in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries.  V.  "Almain"  in 
Nsw  English  Dictionary: — B  (substantive)  2.  A  kind  of  dance.  .  .  . 
1611,  Cotgrave,  S.  V.  Saut,  Troispaslun  saut,  "The  Almond  leape." 

114:  Note.  Ths  Somsrsstshirs  trick,  i.e.,  to  turn  a  somersault. 

114:  36.  With  Dromio's  description  of  the  vessel's  reaching  even  to 
the  "ferment,"  so  that  the  mast  might  have  made  a  hole  in  it,  compare 
the  Clown's  speech  in  Ths  Winter's  Tals  Ill.iii: 

Now  the  ship  boring  the  moon  with  her  main-mast,  and  anon  swallowed  with 
yest  and  froth. 

114:  42.  Untestable.    A  Gobboism  for  "detestable." 

114:  44.  I  wold  willinglie  haue  groume  to  exposicion,  etc.,  appar- 
ently means,  "I  would  willingly  have  made  terms  with,"  etc. 

115:  57.  Are  ths  9  plansttss,  etc.  Cf.  the  telling  of  time  by  the  posi- 
tion of  Charles's  Wain  in  1  Hsnry  IV,  II.  i.  Dromio  has  confused  the 
number  of  the  planets  and  muses.  Perhaps  the  latter  were  suggested 
by  "the  seven  sisters,"  i.e.,  the  Pleiades. 

115:  85.  Knuckls  dseps.  Cf.  "Knuckle  deep  in  iaf—Mucedorus 
(DODSLEY,  Vol., VII,  p.  240).  "Knuckle  deep  in  dirt.''— The  Two  Angry 
Women  (Dodsley,  Vol.  VII,  p.  356). 

116:  91.  A  mads  man.  Cf.  "We  had  all  been  made  men"  (Midsum- 
mer Night's  Drsam  IV.  ii.l7),  i.e.,  our  fortunes  would  have  been  estab- 
lished. 

116:  110.  I  am  vildly  affraid.  "Vild"  and  "vile"  are  different 
forms  of  the  same  word.     Cf .  "vild  disdain" ;  "O  that  vild  Usury !"  etc. 

118:  174.  Parentsr  I,  parenter  no.  ''Parenter"  and  "paraunter" 
are  the  same  as  "peraimter" — for  "peradventure"— "perhaps. " 

118:  186.  A  plains  bais  or  a  shsspss  russstt.     "Bay"  and  "sheep's 


NOTES  175 

Tusset' '  were  about  the  same  color — reddish  or  brownish  red.  Cf .  '  'Here 
is  a  good  sheep's  russet  sea-gowne,  will  hide  more  stresse,  I  warrant 
you  than  two  of  his." — TJie  True  Chronicle  History  of  King  Leir 
{B.azi.itt's  Shajcespeare's  Library,  Vol.  VI,  p.  367.  Also  "Grigietto,  a 
fine  graie  or  sheepes  russet." — Florio,  Worlds  of  Wordes  (1598). 

123.  Compare  with  this  conversation  between  Aicumena  and  Thes- 
sala  the  opening  scene  of  the  Stichus. 

124:  59.  Honour  .  .  is  hut  a  shadowe.  The  speech  suggests  Fal- 
staff's  famous  soliloquy,  1  Henry  IV,  V.i. 

126 :  47.  Flapp  me  in  the  teeth.  A  common  expression  of  the  time. 
Cf. 

Rascall  dost  flappe  me  in  the  mouth  with  tailer 
And  tell'st  thou  me  of  haberdasher's  Ware? 

Rowlands,  Knave  of  Hearts  (1613). 

130:  89.  And  'take,  i.  e.,  an[d]  it  take— if  it  take. 

131:  120.  This  night,  i.e.,  "last  night."  Cf.  "I  did  dream  ...  to- 
night."— Merchant  of  Venice  II.  v.  18. 

131 :  132.  Controule — Used  in  the  rare  sense  of  "to  have  superior 
force  or  authority  over." — Century  Diet. 

135 :  268.  My  Lo,  i.e. ,  My  Lord.  Cf.  "I  have  attayned  to  please  those 
I  seeke  if  I  please  your  La"  (Ladyship). — Retrospective  Review,  Vol. 
II,  p-  153  (cir.  1572). 

138:  10.  To  haue  her  hloud  attempted,  i.e.,  to  have  an  attack  made 
on  her  life. 

139:  67.  Well,  Ladye,  this  is  once,  etc.,  i.e.,  Let  us  be  definite  about 
it  since  we  wish  to  understand  each  other's  position  clearly. 

139:  68.  Out  of  hand,  directly,  without  delay.  "Gather  we  our 
forces  out  of  hand."— 7  Hemnj  VT,  III.  ii. 

140:  1.  You  tooke  me  even  in  my  caste  sir.  "To  speak  in  a  man's 
cast"  means  "to  speak  during  his  part;  to  interrupt. "  N.E.D.  Cast.  sb. 
26b.    Cf. 

If  I  may  speak  in  your  cast,  quoth  Issida.— Lyly,  Euphuee, 

141 :  30.   With  a  tryce — an  older  form  of  "in  a  trice." 
144:  117.  Capperclawe,  or  caperclaw,   or    clapperclaw — "to  beat, 
claw,  and  scratch. "     Cf. 

He  will  clapper-claw  thee  tightly,  bully. 

The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  II.  iii,  67. 

145:  136.  Ouerseene,  i.e.,  deceived  (Obsolete).     Cf.  "overshoot." 

145:159.  TJiou  shalt—thou  shalt.  Possibly  a  scribe's  unintentional 
repetition. 

147:  20.  Imaruell  what  time  of  djxie  tis  with  him.  "Time  of  daie," 
is  here  used  as  a  slang  phrase  denoting  "the  latest  aspect  of  affairs.'* 
— Century  Diet. 

148:  58.  These  high  Countries,  i.e.,  of  course  on  the  roof. 

148:59.  Thou  art  ouldsuer shy.  Possibly  a  reference  to  Sym  Suresby 
of  Ralph  Roister  Doister 

149 :  72.  Forfeyture.  Dromio  probably  means '  'feature, "  oi  possibly 
"counterfeit,"  i.e.,  likeness. 


176  NOTES 

149 :  80.  In  good  time,  sir.  Evidently  in  about  the  same  sense  as 
the  Elizabethan  "Anon,  Sir."  Cf.  "in  good  time"  (Romeo  and  Juliet 
I.  ii.  47);  *'in  happy  time"  (Romeo  and  Juliet  iii.  5),  and  the  French 
phrase,  d  la  bonne  heure. 

149:  84.  ^2^  and  6?/,  i.e.,  presently. 

149 :  85.  An  you  get  you  not  awaie  the  soner.  Cf .  also  (p.  150).  .  .  if 
thou  doest  not  spitt  yt  out  the  soner.  The  meaning  is  evident,  and  sim- 
ilar expressions  seem  to  have  been  fairly  common.  Cf.  "Go  not  my 
horse  the  better"  (Macbeth  III.  i.  25).  V.  note  to  Clarendon  Press  edi- 
tion of  Macbeth. 

149:  103.  An  Incony place.  "A  cant  word  prevalent  about  1600  of 
unascertained  origin"  (N.E.D.).  * 'Incony"  means  *'rare,"  "fine," 
* 'pretty."    Cf. 

O  superdainty  canon,  vicar  incony. 

Ben  Jonson,  2'ale  of  a  Tub,  IV,  i. 

149:  110.  Floute  .  .  .  in  high  dutch,  i.e.,  simply  in  German. 

150:  119.  Ich  bringe  euch  unudt.  The  last  word  seems  quite 
unintelligible. 

150:  120.  Very  good  fustian.  "Fustian"  is  bombastic  or  inflated 
language.     Cf. 

God  forgive  me,  he  speaks  Dutch  fustian. 

Marlowe,  Doctor  Faustus,  p.  85. 

150:  139.  A phillipp  on  the  coxcombe.     "A  rap  on  the  head."    Cf. 

Then  sith  man's  life  is  as  a  glass,  and  a  filip  may  crack  it,  etc. 

Soliman  and  Perseda  (Dodsley,  Vol.  V,  p.  346). 

151:  155.  And  soe  forth.  Probably  a  direction  to  the  actor  to 
improvise.    Such  directions  are  not  uncommon  in  Elizabethan  plays. 

153 :  17.  Recoumpt  or  recompt — obsolete  forms  of  recount. 

154:  46.  As  good  sone  as  signe,  i.e.,  you  might  as  well  go  now  as 
later.  Cf.  the  expression  "sooner  syne,"  i.e.,  sooner  or  later.  The 
expression  is  evidently  proverbial. 

155:  98.  Lawe.  A  variation  of  the  inter jectional  "La!" — now 
vulgar.  * 

156:  4.  Reakes,  an  old  word  for  "pranks."  "To play  rea?— to  play 
the  king;  act  despotically  or  with  violence;  handle  a  person  roughly; 
"play  the  mischief."  This  phrase  probably  alludes  to  the  Rex,  or 
king,  in  the  early  English  plays,  a  character  marked  by  more  or  less 
violence.  The  noun  in  time  lost  its  literal  meaning,  and  was  often 
spelled  reaks,  reeks  (keep  a  reaks,  etc.),  and  used  as  if  meaning 
' 'tricks.  ''—Century  Diet.     Cf . 

To  suffer  such  a  caytifC  to  play  such  Rex.— Spenser,  State  of  Ireland. 

Love  with  Rage  kept  such  a  reakes  that  I  thought  they  would  have  gone  mad 
together.— Breton,  Dream  of  Strange  Effects,  p.  17. 

158 :  80.  Pistolettes  [=G.  pistole='Pg.  pistola,  <  F.  pistole,  a  pistole]. 
"The  name  was  afterwards  applied  to  the  gold  coins  of  other  countries 
especially  of  Spain. '  '—Century  Diet.  The  value  of  the  pistole  of  various 
countries  varied  from  about  §3.45  to  $5.55. 


NOTES  177 

"Pistolets,— S.  diminutive  of  pistoles,  a  Spanish  coin,  not  rounded, 
or  formed  with  exactness." — Nares. 

We  offered  some  reward  in  pistolets  unto  tlie  servant. 

Bacon,  New  Atlantis  (works,  Montagu  ed..  Vol.  I,  p.  256). 

161 :  17.  Iverylie  thought  yt  had  bene  on  a  light  fier.  Cf.  also,  page 
165.  Ben  Jonson  uses  the  same  expression:  "Fasting  days!  What  tell 
you  me  of  fasting-days?  'Slid,  would  they  were  all  on  a  light  fire  for 
me. " — Every  Man  in  His  Humour,  III,  2,  p.  31,  Gifford-Cunningham  ed. 
An  interesting  persistence  of  the  expression  is  in  the  Scotch  phrase  **a 
light  low."  V.  Ouy  Manner ing,  p.  78,  Centenary  edition.  Cf.,  also, 
"Oh,  the  house  must  be  all  in  a  light  blaze  inside!"— Mary  E.  Wilkins, 
The  Jamesons,  p.  9,  N.  Y.,  1899. 

162 :  44.  My  wief  hath  taken  order  with  me  for  my  wellfare.  The 
phrase  "to  take  order"  meant  "to  take  suitable  action  or  measures,'* 
"to  provide  for,"  and  is  now  obsolete.    Cf. 

Provide  me  soldiers,  lords, 
Whiles  I  take  order  for  mine  own  affairs. 

2  Henry  VI,  III.  1.  320. 

168:  80.  Choppinge,  stout,  lusty,  plump,  bouncing. 

How  say  you  now,  gossip 
Is't  not  a  chopping  girl? 

MXDDLETON,  Chaste  Maid,  Hi,  b.  (Century  Diet.). 

163:  88.  The  base  courte.  "A  secondary  or  inferior  court  or  yard, 
generally  at  the  back  of  a  house,  opposed  to  the  chief  court  or  main 
quadrangle;  a  farm-yard. "—Cenfz*ry  Diet    Cf.  the  French  basse-cour, 

165.  de  coeU)  histrioni[c]o — i.e.,  the  stage  representation  of  heaven. 


INDEX 


Acolastus,  47,  49,  57,  58,  85. 

Adelphi,  78. 

Aeschines,  9. 

Age,  The  Silver,  etc.,  90, 91, 92. 

Albion's  England,\M. 

Alphonms,  King  of  Aragon,  79. 

Amadis  of  France,  63. 

Ambrose,  Saint,  14. 

Amphitruo,  21,  22,  24,  25,  32,  33,  34,  35,  66, 

70,  72,  73,  75,  78,  79,  86,  88,  89, 91,  92,  95. 
Anstey,  The  Rev.  Henry,  9. 
Andria,  28,  39,  74,  80,  84. 
Antwerp,  57. 
Appius  and  Virginia,  72. 
Arabic,  8. 

Archipropheta,  40,  46,  49. 
Aretino,  61,  63,  85. 
Ariosto,55,  58,  61,62,  64. 
Aristotle,  9,  57. 
Artour,  Thomas,  39. 
Ascham,  Roger,  16,  26,  62. 
Asinaria,  60,  66. 
Auberinus,  Caius,  10. 
Auckland,  College  of,  10. 
AululaHa,  20,  21,  22,  25,  27,  61,  86,  93,  94. 
Austen,  Saint,  10,  14. 
Avignon,  Consistory  of,  8. 


B 


Bacchides,  60,  69. 

Baker,  Professor,  74,  75,  77 

Bale,  John,  39,  48,  49. 

Balliol  College,  11. 

Bandello,  62,  84. 

Barbarus,  Hermolaus,  21. 

Barclay,  Alexander,  45. 

Bariwna,  Laurentius,  54. 

Barnes,  Robert,  24. 

Bedford,  Duke  of,  9. 

Bellum  Grammaticale,  69. 

Benedict,  Abbot  of  Peterborough,  7,  20. 

Beowulf,  30. 

Birthe  of  Hercules,  The,  66,  84,  90 

Black  Death,  8. 

Blakiston,  H.  E.  D.,  7 

Boccaccio,  9,  62,  70. 

Borgia,  Lucrezla,  60, 

Botoner,  William,  10. 

Brandesby,  26. 

Brandl,  29,  32,  51,  53,  55,  56,  57. 


Brandt,  Sebastian,  45. 
Brasenose  College,  12, 23. 
Brooke,  Arthur,  62. 
Buchanan,  49. 
Bucolics,  84. 
Burrows,  1 1,  23. 


Caesar,  73. 

Calisto  and  Meliboea,  29. 

Cambises,  73. 

Cambridge,  10, 11,  12, 13,  16,  16, 18,  24,  96. 

27,  39,  40,  44,  69,  70. 
Camden  Society,  15, 17. 
Campaspe,  74. 
Capgrave,  9. 

Captivi,  37,  49, 55,  56,  65,  66,  76,  80,  94. 
Carpenter,  Professor  F.  I.,  89. 
Case  is  Altered,  The,  95. 
Casina,  25,  61,  76. 
Cato.  9. 
Catullus,  78. 
Caxton,  10,  22,  28. 
Chaderton,  William,  18. 
Chalcondyles,  Demetrius,  11. 
Chasles,  20. 
Chaucer,  9. , 

Cheke,  Sir  John,  16,  18, 26. 
Cheney,  Richard,  17. 
Child,  Professor,  38. 
Chilianus,  46. 
Christ  Church,  40. 

"Christian  Terence"  plays,  46,  49,  50. 
Christopherson,  John,  39,  49. 
Christ's  College,  48. 
Christus  Redivivus,  40. 
Christus  Triumphans,  49. 
Churchill,  George  B.,  48. 
Cicero,  9,  10,  24,  26,  27, 32,  40,  69,  73. 
Cinthio,  Giraldi,  66, 
Gintia,  La,  70, 
Cistellaria,  59. 
Claudian,  36. 
Cloetta,  21,  22. 
Codrus,  21. 
Colet,  13, 14,  18. 
Collectanea,  8,  11,  23. 
Comedy  of  Errors,  The,  68,  86,  87,  88,  89. 
Collier,  29,  40,  45,  64,  86. 
Cometographia,  54. 

Cooper's  Athenae  Cantabrigienses,  39,  40. 
Cooper,  W.  D„  40. 


180 


INDEX 


Cornelius  Agrippa,  85. 
Corpus  Christ!,  12,  23. 
Cox,  Leonard,  39. 
Craik,  15. 
Crelzenach,  21,  22. 
Crocus,  47,  49. 
Cromwell,  13,  15,  48. 
CurcuUo,  59,  78. 
Cusanus,  Nikolaus,  21. 

D 

Damon  and  Pithiae,  63,  64. 

Dante,  9,  22. 

Desiderata  Curiosa,  18. 

Dido,  14,  39. 

Digby  Mysteries,  30,  36. 

Disobedient  Child,  The,  50,  51. 

Divina  Commedia,  22. 

Dodsley,  29,33,  50,  72,  73. 

Dolce,  62. 

Dorothea,  46. 

Douay,  57. 

Douglas,  Gawain,  10. 

Duns  Scotus,  13. 

Dtirham,  36. 

Dyce,  22,  23,i92. 


Edward  VI,  16,  29,  32,  51. 

Edwards,  Richard,  53,  63. 

Elizabeth,  Queen,  16,  19,  27,  39,  40,  53,  78, 

87. 
Elyot,  Sir  Thomas,  24,  25,  79. 
Endimion,  73.  74,  77. 
Ennlus,  80. 
Epidamnus,  87. 
Epidicus,  60,  76. 
Erasmus,  11,  12,  18,  25,  27. 
d'Este,  Alfonso,  60. 
Ethiopian  History,  The,  63. 
Eton,  14,  27,  89,  40,  84. 
Eunuchus,  24,  51,  65,  69,  70,  76,  79,  84. 
Euripides,  26. 

Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  83,  95,  96. 
Every  Man  Out  of  His  Humour,  &5. 


Fantesca,  La,  70. 

Ferrara,  22,  60,  65. 

Fitz-Ralph  of  Armagh,  Archbishop,  8. 

Fleay,  64. 

Fleetwoode,  William,  67. 

Flemming,  79. 

Flemmyng,  Robert,  11. 

Fletcher,  C.  R.  L,.,  8. 

Fowler,  12,  23. 

Fox,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  12. 

Fox's  Acts  and  Monuments,  24. 

Foxe's  Christus  Triumphans,  49. 


France,  9, 10,  20,  60. 
French,  9,  10,  45,  63,  67. 
Fuller,  15. 
Fullonius,  47. 

G 

Qammer\Gurton's  Needle,  30. 
Gandersheim,  The  nun  of,  £0, 46. 
Gardiner,  Chancellor  of  Cambridge,  48. 
Gascoigne,  George,  27,  57,  58,  62,  64. 
Georgics,  84. 

Germanic  Philology,  Journal  of,  54. 
Germany,  21,  29,  38, 89,  44, 67,  and  chapter 

Y  passim. 
Gesta,  Grayorum,  87. 
Geta,  21. 
Gifford,  95, 96. 

Glasse  of  Governm£nt,  27,  57,  58. 
Glastonbury  Abbey,  7. 
Gnapheus,  47,  49. 
Golden  Ass,  The,  63. 
Golding,  79. 
Googe,  79. 

Gosson,  Stephen,  63,78. 
Governour,  The  Boke  named  the,  24. 
Graf,  30. 

Gray,  William,  11. 
Grey,  Lady  Jane,  16. 
Greece,  61,  77. 

Greek,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12,  14, 16, 17,  23,  88, 37,  62. 
Greene,  Robert,  73,  79,  80. 
Grimalde,  Nicholas,  40,  49. 
Grocyn,  William,  11, 14, 18,  23. 


Hales,  Professor,  40. 

Halliwell,  90. 

Harrington,  Sir  John,  69. 

Harvey,  Gabriel,  17,  78. 

Hazlitt,  10,  24,  27,  29,  33,  64,  66,  72,  73,  84, 

90,. 92,  93. 
Heautontimorumenos,  49,  78. 
Hebrew,  8. 
Hecatommithi,  66. 
Heidelberg,  58. 
Henno,  46. 

Henry  VIII,  13,  1.'),  26. 
Henry  of  Winchester,  7,  20. 
Henslowe's  Diary,  90. 
Herford,  Professor,  40,  45,  46,  47,  48,  B7, 

58,  82,  96. 
Heywood,  John,  36,  37,  38,  53,  59. 
Hey  wood,  iThomas,  90. 
Higgins,  John,  40,  77,  85. 
Hispanus,  70. 
History  of  Error,  The,  86. 
Hoker,  John,  39. 
Holinshed,  23. 
Holland,  46, 58. 


INDEX 


181 


Homer,  73. 

Horace,  10,  40. 

Hrotsvitha,  20,  46. 

Huber,  18. 

Humphrey  of  Gloucester,  9, 16. 

Eymenaeus,  70. 


Ingannati,  69. 

Ingelend,  Thomas,  50. 

Ipswich,  14. 

Isocrates,  26. 

/  Suppositi,  55,  56,  61,  62,  64,  69. 

Italian,  9,  10, 19,  21,  53,  72  and  chapter  vi 

passim. 
Italy,   11,    14,  21,  48,  53  and  chapter  vi 

passim. 


Jacob  and  Esau,  The  History  of,  51,  53. 

Jack  Juggler,  29,  32,  33,  35.  36, 37,  41. 

James  I,  30. 

Jephtha,  39. 

Jerome,  Saint,  14, 21. 

Jew  of  Malta,  The,  80. 

Jocasta,  62. 

Johnson,  La"vn*ence,  54. 

John  a  Kent  and  John  a  Cumber,  92. 

Jonson,  Ben,  19,  77,  81,  82,  83,  87,  94,  95,  96. 

Jusserand,  8,  30,  32. 

Juvenal,  10. 


Keller,  Wolfgang,  4& 
Kemp,  81. 

Kildare,  Earl  of,26. 
King's  College,  27. 
Kirchmayer,  47,  48. 
Kittredge,  Professor,  53,  54. 
Klein,  22. 
Knight,  14. 
Kyffln,  Maurice,  84. 
KyngeJohan,  48. 


Labyrinthus,  70. 

Laelia,  69. 

Latimer,  16,  17,  25, 

Layton,  Richard,  13. 

Leander,  70. 

Lee,  Sidney,  40. 

Leicester,  8. 

Leo,  Pope,  61. 

Leto,  Pomponio,  22. 

Lily,  George,  11, 13, 14, 18. 

Linacre,  18,  23. 

Livy,  7,  9. 

Loonus,  Gulielmus,  44. 

Louvain,  24. 


Love's  Labour's  Lost,  92. 

Lowndes,  28. 

Lucian,  10,  27,  93. 

Luther,  45. 

Lyly,  John,  19,  73,  74,  75,  77,  81,  82,  86. 

Lyte,  H.  C.  Maxwell,  12,  23,  39. 

M 

Macchiavelli,  61. 

Macropedius,  47,  49,  51. 

Madan,  28. 

Madden,  20. 

Manual  for  the  Collector  and  Amateur  of 

Old  Plays,  90. 
Manly,  The  Pre-Shaksperean  Drama, 'il. 
Marlowe,  Christopher,  80. 
Marriage  of  Wit  and  Science,  The,  72. 
Martial,  78. 
Martin  Guerra,  78. 
Measure  for  Measure,  66. 
Menaechmi,  22,  55,  65,  78,  79,  84,  85,  86,  87. 

88,89. 
Menander,  69,  70. 
Mercator,  29,  70,  70. 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  The,  86. 
Microcosmus,  39. 

Miles  Oloriosus,  30,  41,  60,  74,  80,  85,  86. 
Mirror  for  Magistrates,  19. 
Misogonus,  53,  55,  56,  57,  64. 
Modern  Terence  plays,  46,  49. 
Modern  Language  Publications,  40, 64. 
Monasteries,  15. 

Morality  Plays,  36,  37,  45,  51,  72,  82. 
More,  Sir  Thomas,  12,  18,  23,  24, 35. 
Mostellaria.  £5,  66,  74,  86. 
Mother  Bombie,  75,  76,  77,  86. 
Mullinger,  J.  Bass,  10. 
Mundus  Plumbeus,  39. 
Munimenta  Academica,  9,  10. 
Mystery  Plays,  30,  32,  36. 

N 
Nash,  85. 

Neo-Latin  plays,  44  and  chapter  v  pas- 
sim. 
New  College,  8. 
Nichols,  27,  S9,  87. 
Nice  Wanton,  51. 
Norwich,  15. 


Old  Wives'  Tales,  The,  80. 

Oriel  College  Library,  8. 

Orlando  Furioso,  79. 

Otranto,  65. 

Ovid,  9,  22,  73,  78,  80. 

Oxford,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12,  13,  16, 18. 

Oxford  Historical  Society,  8, 11, 12, 23,  28, 


182 


INDEX 


Paedantius,  69.  \ 

Painter,  William,  62. 

Palace  of  Pleasure,  62,  63,  98. 

Palsgrave,  John,  47,  49. 

Pammachius,  47,  48. 

Paris,  11. 

Pamel,  Thomas,  24. 

Peck,  18. 

Peele,  80. 

Pembroke  Hall,  17. 

Persa,  21. 

Persius,  7. 

Petrarch,  9,  21,  61. 

Phaer,  79. 

Phrea  (Free),  John  11. 

Pilkington,  James,  17. 

Piscator,  39. 

Plato,  9. 

Plays  Confuted  in  Five  Actions,  63  . 

Pliny,  9. 

Plummer,  C,  39, 

Plutarch,  92,  93. 

Poenulus,  55,  76. 

Politlan,  11. 

Polychronicon,  9. 

Pomponius  Laetus,  14,  22. 

Pope,  Alexander,  20. 

Porta,  Giovanni  Baltista  della,  70. 

Premierfait,  Laurent,  10. 

Preston,  Thomas,  73. 

Priscian,  8. 

Prodigal  Son  plays,  47.  49,  54, 55,  57. 

Promos  and  Cassandra,  64,  66,  68,  69,  71. 

Propertius,  78. 

Prynne,  78. 

Pseudolus,  51,  66,  80. 

Pudsey,  Hugh,  7. 

Puttenham,  78. 

Pynson,  28,  45. 

Pyrgopolinices,  47- 


Queen's  CJoUege,  69. 
Querolus,  20,  21. 
Quintilian,  9,  10. 


Radcliffe,  Ralph,  39,  48,  49. 

Ralph,  Roister  Doister,  37,  38,  40,  41,  43,  44, 

55.     \ 
Rare   Triumphs  of  Love  and  Fortune, 

The,  73. 
Kastell,  Johes,  29.  36,  84. 
Ratherius,  21. 
Rebelles,  49,  51,  58. 
Reinhardstoettner,  7,  30, 66,  86. 
Renaissance,  8,  9,  15. 18,  19,  21,  27,  38,  60. 


Retrospective  Review,  26,  27,  39,  44. 

Reuchlin,  46. 

Rhodes,  14. 

Rice,  John  ap,  13. 

Rightwise,  John,  14,  39,  45 

Rolls  Series,  9. 

Rome,  21,  22,  60,  77. 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  62. 

Round  Table,  The,  63. 

Rudens,  29,  76,  85,  86. 

Rychardes,  Thomas,  53. 

s 

Sallust,  7, 14. 

Schoolmaster,  The,  26,  62. 

Scienna,  65. 

Sellyng,  William,  11. 

Seneca,  7,  9,  44,  62,  70,  73,  78. 

Shakspere,  19,  63,  64,  66,  72,  75,  86,  87, 

92,  93,  98. 
Shakespeare  Jahrhuch,  69. 
Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  67,  78,  81,  95. 
Silvanus,  70. 
Skelton,  22,  31. 
Skealethia,  92. 
Slaughter,  Martin,  90. 
Smith,  Sir  Thomas,  16,  18,  26. 
Sophocles,  26. 
Spanish,  29,  63,  67. 
St.  Paul's,  13,  14,  45. 
Statins,  10. 
Stichus,  76,  93. 
Strype's  Memoirs,  16, 17. 
Studentes,  49,  50,  58. 
Stylpho,  46. 
Stymmelius,  49,  50. 
Suetonius,  9. 
Sulpitius,  14. 
Supposes,  The,  64. 
Surrey,  Earl  of,  19,  61. 
Surtees  Society  Publications,  7, 10. 
Syculus,  Dyadorus,  23. 
Symonds,  J.  A.,  61. 
Syracuse,  87. 


Taming  of  the  Shrew,  The,  64,  85. 

Tancred  and  Gismunda,  62,  72. 

Tanner,  84. 

Tarentum,  87. 

Tarlton,  81. 

Ther sites,  29,  30,  81,  32,  36,  74. 

Thomeson,  Wiiliam,  10. 

Tibullus,  78. 

Timon  of  Athens,  92.  93. 

Tiptoft,  John,  10, 11, 

Tolman,  Professor  A.  H.,  64 

TotteVs  Miscellany,  19. 

Towneley  Plays,  36. 


INDEX 


183 


Trinummus,  66,  86. 
Truculentus,  93. 
Tubingen,  13. 
Tully,  7, 10,  14,  22,  27. 
Tusser,  50. 
Twyne,  79. 


Udall,  20,  40,  43,  44,  48,  50,  77,  84.1 
University   Wits,   27  and   chapter  vii 

passim. 
Utopia,  23,  24,  25. 


Venice,  70. 

Vergil,  7,  9,  10,  14,  22,  27,  73. 

Vital  de  Blois,  21. 

Vitelli,  11. 

Voigt,  9. 

w 

Wakefield,  Robert,  13. 
Ward,  Hist.  Eng.  Dram.  Lit.,  64,  73,  75, 
76,90. 


Warner,  William,  84. 

Warton,  10,  11,  12,  13,  20,  24,  40,  77,  78,  84. 

Webbe,  William,  78,  79,  84. 

Westminster,  40. 

Whetstone,  George,  66, 68,  95. 

Williams,  Thomas,  17. 

V/illiam  de  Wykeham,  8. 

Wilmot,  Robert,  62,  72. 

Wilson,  Robert,  53.  p 

Wimpheling,  Jacob,  46. 

Winchester  College,  8. 

Winchester,  14,  17. 

Wittenberg,  85. 

Wolsey,  Cardinal,  Vi,  14,  15. 

W.  W.,  84,  86. 

Wyatt,  Sir  Thomas,  19,  61. 


Xenophon,  40. 


Young,  Dr.,  17. 


Zelotypus,  70. 


Departments 


CLASSICAL  PHILOLOGY 

Under  tlie  supervision  of  tlie  editors  of  the  Lake  Classical  Series. 


ENGLISH  LANGUAGE  AND  LITERATURE 

Under  the  supervision  of  the  editor  of  the  Lake  EnijlUh  Vlanaicp 

GERMANIC  PHILOLOGY 

Under  the  supervision  of  the  editor  of  the  Lake  Oerman  Series 

ROMANCE 

Under  the  sui)ervlsion  of  the  editor  of  the  Lake  French  Series 

PHYSICAL   SCIENCES 

Under  the  supervision  of  the  editor  of  the  Lake  Science  Series 


1E.«^ 


prospectus 


We  desire  to  call  the  attention  of  universities,  libraries, 
and  the  learned  public  to  this  Series  of  representative 
Doctoral  Theses,  which  it  is  proposed  eventually  to  extend  so 
as  to  embrace  the  various  fields  of  research  cultivated  in  all 
the  larger  American  imiversities.  Only  such  theses  will  be 
taken  into  the  Series  as  are  especially  recommended  to  our 
editorial  staff  by  the  professors  in  charge  of  the  departments 
of  the  universities  at  which  they  have  been  presented  for 
the  degree.  Each  department  of  the  Series  will  be  under 
the  immediate  supervision  of  the  editors  of  our  several 
series  of  educational  text-books.  With  this  twofold  con- 
trol it  is  believed  that  the  Dissertationes  Americanae 
will  maintain  a  high  standard  of  excellence  and  will  prove 
a  valuable  repository  of  the  best  scientific  product  of  our 
younger  scholars. 

Each  monograph  will  be  published  separately,  but  for 
the  convenience  of  libraries  the  monographs  in  each  depart- 
ment will  be  bound  together  in  volumes  with  continuous 
pagination.  The  publications  will  be  put  upon  the  market 
in  the  usual  way,  and,  through  our  foreign  agents,  will  be 
catalogued  in  all  the  bibliographies  of  current  scientific 
literature,  and  sent  to  the  leading  departmental  journals  for 
review. 


SOOTT,  FOEESMAN  AND   COMPANY 
CHICAGO 


RETURN  TO  the  circulation  desk  of  any 
iJnIversity  of  California  Library 
or  to  the 

NORTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 
BIdg.  400,  Richmond  Field  Station 
University  of  California 
Richmond,  CA  94804-4698 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 
2-month  loans  may  be  renewed  by  calling 

(415)642-6233 
1-year  loans  may  be  recharged  by  bringing  books 

to  NRLF 
Renewals  and  recharges  may  be  made  4  days 

prior  to  due  date 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


Jill  1^1996 


/' 


9Zd 

B6/9 


